


Sakataterihwáhten (I’ve made a mistake)

by Antecanis



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecanis/pseuds/Antecanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham is in hospital and no one knows whether or not he will make it through the night. Connor sits by his bed and goes through the events that have led to this; having to face his own involvement in the attack on his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flowers and a Love Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Karen, who prompted: "Good Lord! Haytham is so very arrogant, smug and selfrighteous! Connor loves it. Even in bed. Especially in bed." -Well, dear, I'm afraid this ended up being another lengthy character study with lots of angst! But you get your porn, too, I promise.
> 
> (I also know that there are a few translations to "Sakataterihwáhten" but this one was the most fitting for my little AU)  
> Enjoy and thanks for reading <3

It took hours after they had rushed Haytham into surgery until Connor was allowed to see his father again, and once the nurse led him to the cold, white hospital room where they had brought him after he seemed stable, the young Assassin was suddenly hesitant to enter.  
There the Grand Master of the Templars was in the small, sterile bed; lifeless, vulnerable in a way Connor had never seen him before, and even though he had tried to listen to the nurse’s explanations about Haytham’s condition, he could not remember a single thing beside the fact that the doctors didn’t know whether or not he would make it through the night. However, if he did, they were pretty certain he would wake up again.  
Eventually taking a seat next to the bed, Connor regarded his father with a clouded expression; tears suddenly distorting his sight, and with an angry motion he wiped them away. He had no right to cry.  
Closing his eyes for just a moment, he wished everything would be different upon opening them again. “Sakataterihwáhten.”

***

Connor ran toward his father and everything seemed to happen nightmarishly slow; only the blood was leaving the Templar’s body way too fast; mixing with the rain, and painting the shallow puddles of the dirty back street in an obscure pinkish color. Falling to his knees next to his father, he pressed his hands to the other’s neck in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, even though he knew it was in vain.  
“Call an ambulance!”, he shouted in the direction of the confused Assassin, who had frozen dead in his tracks once he had seen Connor run towards them; the bloody blade still extended from his wrist. “Do it! Call an ambulance! That’s an order!”, Connor screamed helplessly, acting as if he was even in a position to give orders, which he was not. However, the other Assassin was too confused to realize that, pulling out a disposable cell phone, and dialing 911.  
Leaning over Haytham and trying to lock eyes with him, Connor could feel life leaving the older man. “I’m sorry”, he breathed out, blinking away rain and tears from his lashes; seeing how the grey eyes grew dull. “I’m so sorry, forgive me, father… Sakataterihwáhten.”

***

He opened his eyes, but everything was as wrong and dreadful as when he had closed them.  
Leaning his head onto the unfamiliar smelling blanket, Connor closed his eyes once more and tried to forget how it had felt to see his father die; praying for the ambulance to get there in time.  
But of course, it had all started so much earlier than that.

***

Connor had known who his father was, even though he had never met him. He had seen pictures; had heard a few stories from his mother, and had heard worse from the Assassins, whose cause he had joined at the age of fifteen after his mother had died. The man who Ziio had described to him was someone who wanted peace but was willing to do bad things to achieve it; someone who was righteous yet arrogant; a charming liar at times, but all in all, Connor had had the impression he was a good man at heart.  
Now, however, the picture he had in mind was painted in darker colors by what Achilles and the others had said about the Grand Master of the Templars.  
So it was no surprise that Connor was more than reserved when he met the man himself four years later. Matters were complicated further by the fact that neither of them had planned on meeting the respective other; and when Haytham had tackled the young Assassin to the ground, there was a moment of silence.  
“Father…”  
Connor had been sent to investigate a possible target; someone who the Assassins suspected to help the Templars cover up crimes all over Boston; a lab technician named Timathy Khall, who rented the place in which father and son now found themselves.  
The young man looked up into his father’s face; clenching his jaw as he remembered all the things Achilles and the others had told him about this man; someone who Connor wished not to be related to at all. And still… there was something familiar about him; a feeling deeper than the mistrust and spite the Assassins had filled him with churning his insides for just a tiny moment before the other’s voice reached him.  
“Connor. What an unpleasant surprise.”  
Pushing Haytham off, the Assassin struggled to his feet, eyeing the other with veiled wonder. “For a moment I thought you’d kill me.”  
The Grand Master smiled; an expression that did not quite reach his eyes. “Too tedious nowadays. Only something to resort to whenever there is no other conceivable way.”, he replied, and Connor sincerely hoped he was just kidding.  
“What are you doing here?”  
They circled each other like wolves; waiting for the other to strike; readying themselves for the fight that would come. There was still this arrogant, distant smile on his father’s lips, and Connor found himself staring at him; somehow enthralled by it.  
“Same as you are, I suppose. Looking for the owner of this place.”, the Templar replied calmly, folding his arms behind his back without relaxing his alert posture. “Very well. I assume you are here to kill him?”  
“Yes.”, Connor answered before he could even think about whether or not it would be wise to share any plans with the enemy. “I mean; no. I just wanted to…” He shrugged without finishing the sentence; knowing he would have killed the man if he had been here.  
“I see.” Raising his brows, Haytham stopped the circling and Connor stopped as well; almost expecting the other to come at him now, which he didn’t.  
“I reckon we have been played; and if it hadn’t been us, there would be at least one body here.”  
“I don’t understand.” Connor crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes; guessing the Templar was stalling; playing for time or following some other plan altogether.  
“Of course not; you’re an Assassin after all. But you’re still young; maybe we need some time together and you can still be saved from your ignorance.”  
“What are you talking about?”, Connor growled, not willing to put up with this any longer. The Assassins had been right; this man was arrogant and a Templar through and through. What had he expected?  
“A truce. We have both been lured here. I reckon your Assassin sources hinted that this man is working with Abstergo to cover up murders we have committed in the name of our cause? That surely is the reason why you have been sent to kill him, isn’t it?”  
“I… yes.”  
“Interestingly enough, we received a similar hint. Stressing how urgent this business is; since the Assassins are planning their next coup tonight; so better take out this lab genius now. He has certainly not worked for us; and apparently neither for you.”  
Starting his pacing again, Haytham looked directly at Connor, and the young man wished he could just escape those grey eyes, which seemed to see right through him. With a shiver he averted his gaze, cursing his emotional response to this mess. Eventually he nodded; both for his father to continue talking, and to indicate that he had been told something alike.  
“There was a high probability of us - Templar and Assassin - meeting here today then; and usually there is a lot less talk whenever an Assassin and a Templar meet, especially if they suspect the respective other tries to protect their ally in crime; however, no one could have expected exactly us two meeting and sparing each other’s lives. Well. We’ve become politicians more than the killers we used to be in past centuries; and we try solving our… differences in other ways than to have a direct war that would draw unneeded attention to our organizations. Certainly, sometimes we have to decrease the other party’s allies, but… this might have been different. This could have triggered some war. And who would profit from that?”  
“Who?” Connor studied his father; unsure whether or not to believe him.  
“I’m afraid I don’t know. But we might as well find out together. What do you think?”

***

When he thought back to that day, he could now see that he had been… interested even back then. There was something appealing about the other’s strength; that smugness and arrogance that enthralled him. The feeling of danger maybe; the vague mistrust sharpening his senses.  
Back then he had told himself that it was for the sake of peace between their orders; no direct killing spree triggered by some third party, who might benefit from an open war between Templars and Assassins.  
But now, as he leaned onto the hospital bed and listened to the machines keeping his father alive, he admitted to himself that it had been solely out of selfish reasons; that his willingness to investigate this matter with his father was born from the wish to get to know him; to be close to him and maybe; just maybe, overcome everything that separated them. And then, of course, there had been something else between them; something he hadn’t been able to anticipate before it happened.

***

Three months after their first meeting they had figured out that Haytham’s initial theory regarding the Timathy Khall incident had been true after all; and that there was indeed someone trying to fuel the enmity between Templars and Assassins by letting them cross paths on dangerous territory. Why, however, they hadn’t found out yet. Connor had told the Creed about the discovery of someone trying to create an open war, and had tried to warn everyone to be careful and avoid direct conflicts with the Templars for nothing might be as it seemed; but he had kept the information from them with whom he was working to figure this thing out; fearing they could guess his personal involvement and might doubt his assessment of the situation due to his emotional entanglement.  
Haytham seemed to have made similar arrangements since he neither wanted Connor to come by his office at Abstergo’s, nor let him be seen in his Templar estate just outside of town where he resided.  
Hence they met up two or three times a week in Connor’s small apartment, which he inhibited since he had dropped out of school to fully support the Assassins.  
Sometimes the Templar just came by with take out during his lunch break in order to discuss their next step, but that very day they had agreed on having a drink together upon their success in finding out that there really had been someone trying to set them up. And even though Connor had heard the motorcycle before his doorbell rang, he hadn’t quite put those pieces together, and for one short moment he was puzzled when he opened the door and some man with full motorcycle gear stood in front of him. Only when Haytham took the helmet off and ran a gloved hand through his greying hair, Connor realized it was him.  
Stepping aside mutely, he let his father in, trying not to think about how nicely the tight black clothes accentuated the Templar’s body.  
“Good evening to you, too, Connor.”, Haytham remarked with a crooked grin, starting to get rid of the motorcycle gear and revealing an impeccable dark blue vest over a white button up shirt and a grey tie, which he adjusted absent-mindedly, beneath it. “I brought some Whiskey since I suspect I would not be willing to drink whatever alcohol you might have to offer. Remind me to send you some bottles of decent wine, not that swill I’ve noticed in your kitchen last time I was here.” With that, he produced a brown bottle of Scotch from his small backpack, setting aside the latter along with his other gear. Handing the bottle to Connor, he took a seat on the couch, crossing his legs as he leaned back; apparently expecting the other to fill their glasses, which the young man did, still somehow dumbfounded by the simple fact that Haytham knew how to ride a motorcycle – or maybe, as a little voice in his head saw fit to say, maybe that fact wasn’t the interesting part here; maybe it was just the sight of Grand Master Kenway in the tight black gear itself.  
“On the rocks.”, Haytham added loud enough for Connor to hear in the other room, and he put some ice cubes in his father’s glass obediently.  
When he returned to the small living room, he handed the Templar his glass and took a seat on the other side of the couch, making sure to have as much space as possible between them in order to avoid any awkwardness that might arise otherwise.  
“To our first, small success then. May we find the truth behind this.”  
They toasted to that.  
And an hour later they were already fighting again. It was a minor disagreement; a different opinion about how to approach the next target. They had discovered that lab technician ‘Timathy Khall’ did not exist at all; which had been proof as to them being set up, and they had traced the rumors from their sources back to someone who they now had to find. Haytham’s approach was of course rather direct; threaten a few people who might know him and just go after him.  
Connor, however, wanted to set up a trap; reach out to their sources once more, acting as if they were readying themselves for an attack on the Templars in order to lure the man, who had tried to fuel their feud, out.  
“We don’t know whether or not that will even work. Maybe he will just assume his work is done since we are at each other’s throats. Plus; he might be gone by the time our sources report him being back on the street. I’m sure we can find out his name through other means. We just need some piece of information and I can get Abstergo’s resources to dig into him. Then we just have to take care of him. Find out if he was working alone, etcetera.”  
Haytham leaned against the frame of the kitchen door, arms crossed and watching his son fix another glass of Whiskey for himself with impatient motions. They both had had two glasses each, but it seemed as if Connor was more affected than his father; who had only gotten rid of his vest due to the alcohol warming his body; but otherwise showed no sign of being tipsy, unlike the young Assassin.  
“That’s stupid! We already know everything there is to know about him! A trap is the only _smart_ thing to do, I-“  
The Grand Master snorted. “The _smart_ thing? I highly doubt that, boy. If you were all about the _smart_ way to approach things, you certainly hadn’t joined that _foolish_ -“  
Before Connor himself even realized he had turned around to take a swing at his father, he had already been sent to the ground; the air getting knocked from his lungs due to the uncomfortable impact on the kitchen tiles. Growling in annoyance, Connor tried to get to his feet again, but Haytham didn’t seem like he was up for a fight, especially since his son was far from being entirely sober anyways.  
With a swift movement, Haytham leaned down and turned Connor onto his stomach; a harsh grip onto the boy’s wrist as Connor could feel something being wound around his lower arms. He squirmed beneath the Templar and tried to catch a glimpse of what exactly his father was doing when he realized the other had used his tie to keep Connor from getting up again and continue this nonsensical fight.  
Struggling against the makeshift restraints, Connor tried to turn around; his cheeks flushed with anger. As a consequence to his continuous struggling, he could feel Haytham simply resting his weight on him and giving an amused yet displeased sound.  
However, there was also something else as he moved beneath the older man; having the Grand Master sit on him like this; arrogant and self-righteous as ever; yes, there was a thought Connor didn’t quite want to admit having, even though his body grew hot just with the glimpse of it. He could feel his father’s weight on his lower back; keeping him down and even though Connor couldn’t see the other’s face, he knew how smug and satisfied Haytham was looking down on him; having contained the young beast so easily. It seemed surprisingly tempting to the Assassin to just raise his hips as good as possible and grind back against his father’s crotch, and he barely contained this strange desire to do so.  
“Are you going to keep struggling or are you sober enough to stop this nonsense? I did not come here and let you drink my Whiskey for this. As much as I’d love to spar with you, we have other things to do.”, the Templar remarked mockingly with a hint of breathiness to his tone; eventually rising to his knees to be able to turn Connor around.  
“No, don’t-“, the young man started, but it was too late and his father had already turned him onto his back. At first, Haytham’s smile was as smug as before, but upon noticing the reason why Connor had protested in the first place, his expression froze for a moment. Raising a brow, he smirked. “I feel flattered.”, the Grand Master said, shamelessly referring to the young man’s obvious erection; apparently not even doubting it was him who had had this effect on Connor. And as much as the young Assassin wished to state it was something else getting him off here, it wasn’t.  
Biting his lips and staring at the wall in shame, Connor just waited for something to happen; for his father to make fun of him for being aroused by their little fight and Haytham’s arrogant display of dominance; to maybe even just leave him like this and go.  
After a moment that seemed endlessly awkward and embarrassing, Connor could feel the Grand Master’s fingers running almost musingly over the bulging front of his jeans, and in an involuntary motion, Connor’s hips jerked up into the touch and a surprised sound passed his flushed lips before he could even think about biting it back. “What are you-“, he breathed out, a helpless expression appearing on his reddened face as his eyes returned to look at the man kneeling above him.  
“Oh? Not fond of being touched? Why, yes, I remember you mentioning something of the like.” Haytham shrugged, acting as if this was the most casual situation a father and son could be in; and Connor wished his arrogance wouldn’t turn him on so very much.  
The Templar proceeded to turn him around again in order to untie him, but before he could do so, Connor started again, “No; no, I meant…”  
With his smirk widening slightly, Haytham bent over him, his face inches away from Connor’s as he narrowed his eyes. “Yes? Speak freely, boy. You meant… what exactly?”  
Trying to come up with the words that expressed what exactly he wanted, Connor could only think about how close his father was; how smug, how delightfully dominant. It took a long moment until a few words passed his dry lips. “Don’t stop.”  
“Don’t stop what?”, Haytham asked, as if he didn’t know what Connor was talking about. However, he did reach down again without taking his eyes off his son’s face. “This?”, he added, palming the young Assassin’s cock through the fabric and rubbing slightly against it.  
“Y-yes”, Connor managed to breathe out. “Please don’t stop touching me, f-father.”  
Shaking his head slightly as if in disbelief, Haytham’s fingers moved against the other’s erection with a little bit more pressure and Connor closed his eyes for one pleasured moment while another needy sound poured from his lips. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening; and his brain was way too busy with processing the pleasing touches his cock received to worry about any morals here.  
“And where did you imagine this to go?”, the Grand Master breathed out close against Connor’s ear and causing the Assassin’s body to shiver in anticipation.  
“I don’t-“, Connor stuttered, opening his dark, glassy eyes and staring at the older man’s face so close to his’. “I don’t know-“  
“You don’t know? Too bad.” With that, Haytham stopped moving his fingers so knowingly well against his son’s erection, and Connor opened his mouth to protest.  
“Ithoughtmaybeyoucouldsinkdownonme.”, he brought out, his voice barely audible and his face reddening even further.  
Haytham leaned back again and studied his son with an amused expression as his fingers wandered away from Connor’s crotch and ran over the Assassin’s stomach and chest whilst pushing his shirt up. “No.”, he answered lowly, but before Connor could get the impression his father might even be against the idea of having sexual intercourse with him, Haytham added, “You have to earn that.”  
“How can I…?”  
“We’ll see. Maybe next time. Or the time after that. Surely not on our first try.”  
And even though there was a distinct feeling of disappointment rushing through Connor, it was almost entirely replaced by the excitement upon hearing his father say those words; implicating there was another time; and another time after that. That there even was something between them now; something illicit, wrong, and so very thrilling.  
“Okay”, the young man breathed out. “I’ll earn it. I will.”  
“Very well. We’ve sorted that out then.” Haytham’s fingers had pushed up Connor’s shirt as far as possible and now danced over the exposed skin of his chest; pinching a nipple teasingly when they reached it, and the Templar was obviously pleased to see the other’s body jolting up in response. “Or is there anything else you might want me to do?”  
“I want- Take me.” Connor was shuddering under his father’s touch and his breath had sped up slightly; leaving his flushed lips in puffs of air as he tried to keep his reactions under control.  
“Take you? Out for dinner? To the candy store? I certainly have no idea what you are talking about, boy.”, Haytham said with delight; very well knowing what Connor had meant but savoring the embarrassment painting his son’s cheeks in a bright red.  
“No”, the Assassin mumbled, “You know what I… what I meant…”  
“Do I?”, the Grand Master asked with a crooked grin, giving Connor’s nipple another pinch and raising a brow at the sound that left the other’s lips.  
Muttering a few Mohawk curses, Connor eventually howled with unveiled annoyance and want, “I want you to fuck me!”  
Nodding in acknowledgement, Haytham’s fingers finally moved down again; opening up the young man’s jeans and pushing down his boxers just enough to bare the tip of his cock.  
“I suppose I can untie you now and trust you not to attack me again?”  
And when Connor breathed out a husky “no”, he saw his father surprised for the first time. “No”, he repeated lowly, unsure whether or not Haytham had understood that he was not talking about the part with the attacking. “I like it the way it is.”  
There was a pause and the Grand Master looked down on his son; knowing Connor did not particularly trust him, and still…  
“Very well; I’d rather not have your unskilled Assassin’s hands on my body anyways when we do this.”, Haytham remarked with a smug expression replacing the surprise Connor had seen in his eyes.  
There was no ‘but I’m your father’; no ‘but I’m a Templar’, and Connor was thankful for it; not sure if he would have been able to go through with it if Haytham had remarked upon it. “There is lube in the top drawer of my nightstand.”, he said, feeling a bit more courageous now that he had made a fool out of himself anyways; guessing to his father it was highly amusing to see him like this; tied by his wrists, his cock slightly bared and begs for his father to fuck him leaving his flushed lips. What kind of Assassin would beg the Templar’s Grand Master to fuck him while he was tied up and basically at the other’s mercy? No good Assassin would do that, Connor thought vaguely, biting his lower lip in anticipation. And here I am anyways; unable to wish for anything else than what he is about to do.  
For a moment Haytham seemed to hesitate; maybe considering getting Connor to his feet and take this someplace more comfortable; but in the end he just got up without another word and left the kitchen to retrieve the lube from the boy’s bedroom.  
Connor almost expected him to leave altogether; almost expected to hear the front door close any moment, but to his relief his father returned only a short while later, the small bottle in his hands. He looked down onto Connor, who felt more naked than he actually was, and there was still this distant smile on the Templar’s lips that Connor had already noticed the very first time they had met.  
Haytham kneeled down over him once more, and looked at the boy with one last questioningly glance; waiting for some further sign of approval; as if the needy mess in front of him wasn’t enough to convince him that his son wanted exactly this.  
“Please”, Connor whined, pushing up his hips slightly to stress the point that yes; he wanted this to go further.  
Raising a brow at the needy gesture, Haytham leaned over him and proceeded to properly pull down the young Assassin’s jeans and underwear; setting them aside carelessly as he regarded the other with unveiled interest now. Spreading his legs as an invitation, Connor looked pleadingly back at him, aware of how exposed he was, and how the Templar could surely kill him if he wanted to.  
Opening the small bottle of lube, Haytham warmed some of it in his hands before he reached down to press his slicked middle finger against the other’s entrance and pushed in. Clenching up around the finger due to the strange feeling he hadn’t experienced all too often in his life just yet, Connor let out a soft groan, closing his eyes and trying to relax.  
“Relax if you want this to work”, his father seemed to echo his thoughts, and started to caress the boy’s cock with talented fingers in order to distract him. It certainly worked; and while Connor’s breath sped up, he could feel his body accepting the intrusion more readily; even allowing Haytham to add another finger and eventually a third.  
By then, Connor was panting heavily, his hips moving to meet with his father’s hands and drips of precome wetting the sensitive skin of his lower stomach.  
“Looks like you are quite ready.”, Connor heard the breathy, deep voice of his father as Haytham pulled away, and with a shudder the young man opened his eyes again to look at him; just in time to see the other unbutton his shirt and reveal the scarred yet youthful looking body beneath it.  
The breath caught in his throat as his father reached further down to undo his pants, and when he bared his cock, Connor couldn’t help but whined softly. Haytham smiled at the reaction to him undressing and seemed to enjoy the full attention of his son. Now that he was well aware of Connor watching in anticipation, he made sure to take his time lubing himself up after having slipped off the shirt from his broad shoulders.  
Trailing one finger from his balls up to the tip of his cock, he gave a soft sound, pleased to see the other shiver in response. Squirting some lube in the palm of his hand, he curled it tightly around his erection and proceeded to give himself a few slow strokes to slick his cock.  
Connor’s feet nudged his knees impatiently and tried to get the Grand Master to resume his place between his legs, which Haytham eventually did, giving in to the sinfully needy mess in front of him.  
“Very well”, he said almost inaudibly as he leaned over his son and finally aligned himself with the other’s entrance while Connor did his best to wrap his legs around his father’s waist.  
Biting back a gasp when Haytham’s hips moved forward and his cock slowly slid into him, Connor pressed his head back against the cold tiles; his heels digging into his father’s back.  
He could feel the older man’s hot breath on his neck as Haytham leaned over him, one hand on the floor to support his weight, and the other holding tightly onto the young Assassin’s thigh as he started moving; slow at first to let them both adjust to the position and the discomfort of the hard kitchen floor; then his thrusts grew faster and rougher; and soon Connor wasn’t able to hold back the noises that wanted to escape his throat any longer; shamelessly moaning his pleasure and vaguely muttering some nonsensical praise to spur the other’s endeavors. For a moment he wished he had let Haytham untie his hands after all; so he could hold onto his father; pull his face against his chest and cover his greying hair with kisses. Speaking of which; even though their lips were so very close, they did not touch and Connor wondered whether or not Haytham would approve of such a tender gesture; this wasn’t exactly something too tender however intimate it felt.  
Pressing their foreheads together, Haytham was panting heavier now; his grey eyes locked with Connor’s dark ones as he quickened his pace just a little more; adjusting his position slightly and eventually being able to push completely into the young man, who writhed under him with a sudden rush of pleasure letting his whole body shudder.  
“Ah, right there?”, Haytham asked breathlessly with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he tried to mimic the motion he had just done; undoubtedly reaching the boy’s sweet spot when he fucked him like this. “Does that feel good?”  
All that left Connor’s parted lips was a strangled “gah”, which Haytham interpreted as “yes”. With an almost sweet looking smile, the Templar wiped saliva from the boy’s chin since he couldn’t do it himself, and continued the movements that let the body beneath him jolt with bursts of pleasure. The young man didn’t last too long after Haytham had found the right angle to brush past his prostate, and he gave a single, strangled yet feral growl as he came; clenching up tight around his father’s cock as his body cramped for a short moment of pleasure.  
The bliss washed over him like it had never before, and for one strange second he thought he might actually pass out; which he didn’t. Haytham’s eyes seemed to have softened as Connor looked into them again; and he smiled an exhausted smile up to his father, whose breath was coming in shallow gasps now; his movements slowly growing erratic and harsh.  
“Well… _someone_ didn’t… last long...”  
“Spare your breath, old man; sounds like you are out of training.” Maybe it was the blissful haze that still had Connor’s brain in its fangs that let him be sassy like that, but Haytham just let out a breathless laugh.  
“I’ll get back to you… regarding that training.”, he said, his grip on the other’s thigh tightening as he thrust into Connor a few more times roughly. Then, with a coarse moan, the Grand Master pushed forward one last time and spent himself with a shudder into his son.  
Haytham pulled away after a short moment of regaining his composure and proceeded to get up enough to pull up his pants and underwear again; kneeling down next to Connor after closing them to help him into a sitting position.  
With a low groan, Connor felt wetness being smeared between his thighs as he sat up; his ass feeling sore, and he grimaced as his father pulled the tie from his throbbing, reddened wrists.  
To his surprise, the older man gently massaged them before pulling away to reach for his shirt, which he buttoned up again in slow motions.  
It occurred to Connor that he would like his father to stay the night but he didn’t dare to ask; feeling how the confusion set it, now, after the blissful pleasure of sex was slowly fading away.  
He watched Haytham rise to his feet again and for a moment they looked at each other; neither of them addressing what just had happened between them.  
“I should be going, then. Arrange your trap, boy.”  
With that, he was gone; leaving Connor to himself on the kitchen floor. He listened to the short rustle of clothes in the living room and the front door being closed; then he slowly pulled off the sweat soaked shirt and wiped the cum from his stomach and chest with it; making a face as he thought about how he should clean the kitchen floor on the next day.  
He could hear the noises of the motorcycle disappear in the distance and with a heavy sigh, he shifted back a bit so he could sit and lean against the cheap kitchen counter behind him; resting his arms on his knees and bowing his head in confusion.  
He certainly hadn’t planned on sleeping with his own father; but now he was wondering if he truly hadn’t thought about it before today. There had undoubtedly been the physical attraction he had felt, but for some reason or another he had dismissed that as some weird Freudian way of dealing with the absence of his father during his youth; but now it appeared in a different light.  
With a numb feeling he noticed that Haytham had forgotten his tie, and he reached out for it to run his fingers over the silken fabric of it. His father had run off awfully quick after this had happened; and there were gnawing doubts in Connor’s mind that this evening had ruined everything.  
Why had Haytham even indulged him? Why had he reacted so pleased to Connor’s obvious physical reaction to their closeness? This was too much to just do out of politeness; especially since Haytham wasn’t exactly the most polite person Connor had met.  
Shaking his head slightly, he got to his feet; his knees still feeling weak as he made his way toward the bathroom, where he tossed the stained shirt into the laundry bin and stepped into the small shower; washing off the remnants of sex that still clung to his body.  
His mind was still racing; going over the events of the evening again and again; still not quite believing what had happened. And even though he knew that he should feel bad about it; he very well remembered the longing running through every fiber of his body as he begged his father to fuck him.

Two days passed without either of them reaching out to the other.  
Connor had spent pathetic hours staring at his phone in hopes Haytham would text or call him; not even knowing whether or not he would prefer the Grand Master to act as if nothing had happened, or to actually ask for another meeting.  
He admitted to himself that he was anxious that his father wouldn’t want to see him again; that Haytham might have only understood the magnitude of their actions after he had left, and was now not willing to ever reach out to his perverted Assassin son again.  
When the doorbell rang in the afternoon, he was up on his feet in no time; his heart racing at the thought of it being Haytham, who had come back to clear things up; either kiss him, or scold him; whatever it was, Connor could deal with it rather than silence.  
However, it wasn’t the Templar but some delivery guy hefting a box into Connor’s apartment and having him sign for it.  
Once he was alone again, Connor eyed the box, which was filled with six bottles of Italian red wine as the expensive looking label told him. There was also a big envelope attached to the box of wine, and after a moment of hesitation, the young man reached out to carefully detach it and shake its content into his hand.  
Even without looking at the sender, he knew it was from Haytham. Connor vaguely recalled some remark about wine, and he hoped this was a good sign and not a letter in which the Templar coldly demanded Connor to send back his tie, which was neatly hanging from the boy’s bed, where he had placed it as a both pleasant and warning reminder.  
A pair of plain cuffs fell into his hand along with a small handwritten note that read: ‘I don’t want another tie ruined by you’.  
Breathing out a surprised laugh, Connor looked at it and was sure that this was Grand Master Kenway’s equivalent to flowers and a love letter.

***

Raising his head a bit, Connor looked at his father and tried to blink away the tears that were welling up once more. Haytham didn’t even appear to be sleeping now, the young man thought bitterly to himself as he slowly reached out for the other’s lifeless hand. Even those times Haytham had slept close to him – and it had taken the Templar several weeks to trust his son enough to spend the night with him, even though they already had sex on a pretty regular basis – he had looked somewhat alert; and his sleep was so light that Connor never managed to get up without the grey eyes following his movements carefully. Now, he looked vulnerable, and the young Assassin could only hope to have the grey eyes follow him one day again; to see right through him as they had always done.  
He thought back to that moment in the alley; and how Haytham had looked at him; wordlessly - and still, Connor believed his father had known the truth only by looking at him; had seen it in Connor’s eyes.  
“You know it was me, don’t you?”, he whispered, holding tightly onto the pale hand and pressing his forehead against it as tears painted dark dots onto the white blanket below the young man’s face.  
“It’s true. I betrayed you.”


	2. I trusted the wrong Templar

The night passed excruciatingly slow, and Connor’s mind drifted from time to time in a state just at the verge of sleep; dreamlike images and scenes playing out before his eyes; memories and wishes alike; and yet; he still knew where he was and couldn’t escape the weight that rested on his heart. A few times he startled up because he believed to have heard Haytham’s voice gently calling out his native name, but his father was as pale and still as before once Connor opened his eyes.  
Those hopeful, pleasant images left a dull pain when reality shook the young man fully awake again; and he rubbed his eyes a over and over again until he saw tiny dots of light exploding in front of them in hopes of not falling asleep again.  
Nurses rushed in and out of the room several times during the early night, checking vitals and glancing at the young man by the bedside with concern; guessing him and his father had been close. Someone in the staffroom had mentioned there was no other immediate family, and they pitied the boy who had already lost his mother. One nurse brought a cup of coffee from the staffroom, and even though he couldn’t quite express it, he was thankful for it; hoping to stay awake, no matter how exhausted he felt.  
If you knew, Connor thought when he looked after the nurse with tired eyes. If you knew it was me who put my father here. You wouldn’t let me sleep here. You wouldn’t pity me. You wouldn’t think I deserved coffee; or deserved anything at all.  
Setting the mug aside, he let his head fall back onto his arms; his hands reaching for his father’s again, and he wished it wouldn’t feel so cold and dead already. With a numb feeling he patiently awaited the first light of day as if it alone could promise his father’s life; emptying the coffee after a few minutes and pinching himself now and then to stay awake.

***

Connor was in high spirits.  
Even though it had taken almost a month, his trap had paid out more or less; at least he had an address to work with. His sources had recognized the man who had told them about Timathy Khall in the first place some day in the streets; had followed him and figured out where he lived. There was no name on the doorbell on the run-down building, but Connor was positive this was at least something that would bring another piece to the puzzle; if not the solution to the mystery.  
With some excitement he had called his father, and he had almost been able hear the other’s smile in his voice as he promised to come by in the evening to discuss their further approach. Of course, as Connor knew, that meant mostly sex and little actual talk.  
But that was another reason for him being in high spirits: Those last four weeks had been mere pleasure regarding their meetings. Haytham had come by more often; and he had filled Connor’s nightstand drawer with more things than just lube; remarking upon how terribly unprepared they had been last time; sleeping with each other without any safety, and restraining the boy with nothing but a tie - hence he had bought a few more things ‘just in case’. The young Assassin had gone through everything once he had been alone again; blushing when thinking about trying this and that.  
Sure; there had also been little differences about how to proceed, but they ended up arguing them out in bed (or on the couch). And of course Haytham had insisted upon remarking how the trap did not seem to pay out after two weeks without any progress; but Connor had just shrugged, saying they simply needed more time.  
Now he poured himself a glass of the expensive red wine Haytham had sent him; looking forward to his father coming over soon. As he silently toasted to his idea working out despite his father’s doubts, he thought about that one certain thing he had been missing in those past weeks.

***

Disrupted in his thoughts, Connor looked up to see another nurse scurry through the room; checking the patient and making sure he showed no sign of rejecting the blood transfusion he had received after they had stitched up the cut on his neck in a long, nasty surgery. One inch deeper, and nobody would have been able to save the Templar.  
“Maybe it helps if you talk to him.”, she said with an encouraging smile before she left, and Connor nodded mutely. He wasn’t sure who she thought it might help; Haytham to fight back his way from the verge of death, or Connor, telling his father everything he wanted to say before he either died or woke up to never talk to him again.  
The young man’s head was swimming, and there were no more words in his mind that could make him feel better after saying them out loud.  
The anger that had run through his veins and had made him say “My father has to die.” was gone.  
The lust that had dizzied him in heated moments and had made him beg for his father’s cock was buried underneath a dark and painful layer of his own words sealing the attack on his father.  
The happiness that had suffused him after their first kiss and had made him believe everything could end well had turned into bitterness.  
The trust and intimacy he had felt as he had fallen asleep next to his father for the first time had been scorched by the mistrust and the feeling of betrayal.  
There was only a painful void left when he held onto Haytham’s hand and wished for him to make it through the night; a numb regret pulsing through him when he thought about how he had wanted to take his father’s life after the Templar had betrayed him.  
“I forgive you, father. Just hours ago I thought I never could; but I do. Can you forgive me?”  
But had he really?

***

“I love you, father.”  
God; that sounded wrong. Like a child telling Daddy it cared for him. No.  
“I mean, Haytham. I… I love you, Haytham.”  
Clearing his throat, Connor said the words to himself a couple more times, but even without Haytham being there, he felt like a fool for letting them slip from his tongue. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his mind, advising him not to be so cheesy; so infantile. This wasn’t some normal relationship in which one just confessed those feelings for the other; and besides – they hadn’t even kissed. It was just sex for now. Great sex, but still.  
Connor sighed and emptied the second glass of wine; guessing he would keep those certain three little words to himself; at least for now.  
There would be enough time for that once everything had worked out; which it would, as there was no doubt in the young man’s mind: They would find out who would profit from an open war between Templars and Assassins, and they would stop them and their plans. Together. They would have great victory sex, and sleep cuddled close to each other, because there was trust and love and intimacy between them. They would kiss and say ‘I love you’. Connor had nodded to himself with a dreamy grin on his face as he had thought about those things; painting the future months in bright, naïve colors.  
Just when he was about to pour himself a third glass of wine, the doorbell rang. Connor put the wine aside and let his father in; his heart making a tiny jump as always when he laid eyes on the other; even after a month he was surprised and thrilled to be allowed to indulge in this certain kind of relationship with the older man.  
He more or less pulled Haytham inside with a tipsy little smile on his lips; barely letting the other get rid of his motorcycle gear before he pulled his father onto the couch and joined him by shamelessly straddling his lap.  
“Heavens, you’re needy when you’re drunk.” Haytham arched a brow but he did not seem displeased; quite on the contrary. Resting his hands on the other’ hips, he leaned back a bit and sighed without taking his eyes off his son.  
“I’m always needy when I’m around you, father.”, Connor replied with a grin, feeling how the alcohol gave him some liquid courage to follow through with his idea to get that one certain thing he had been missing the past weeks. A smile tugged at his father’s lips even though he shook his head at his son’s remark; and when the young Assassin proceeded to pull off his own shirt in slow, languid motions, Connor knew he had the other’s full attention; loving the way Haytham’s eyes rested on his body, which he could display so knowingly well this way.  
“Father… I’ve this weird… _kinky_ … fantasy about you…”, he mumbled, shifting yet a bit closer and nuzzling the other’s neck as his hips slowly grinded against his father’s. “I really wanna try it out… celebrate our success a bit…”, he added lowly, not even trying to hide the neediness in his voice.  
“You truly are especially eager today, aren’t you? And even though that suits me just fine - are you sure the couch is the right place to… _celebrate_?” There was a huskiness in his father’s voice that let Connor shiver.  
“Yes”, he replied, pulling away slightly to look into the Templar’s eyes, who raised his brows slightly; obviously wondering where exactly this was heading. They had had sex on the couch a couple before when they hadn’t be patient enough to get to bed, so it wasn’t exactly something new; and still... Connor had never been as eager as today; usually Haytham had to get him to admit what he wanted his father to do to him after the Templar had already teased the boy for a while.  
“Then you might want to get up to fetch some lube and a condom from your drawer. Or whatever you need for that certain… _fantasy_ of yours.”, Haytham remarked with some amusement, having peeked around Connor to see nothing on the coffee table but an empty wine glass.  
“No”, Connor said, trying hard not to let out a drunken giggle. “No. No need for that just yet. This fantasy of mine… just… involves… this…”  
With that, he finally leaned in, eyes locked with Haytham’s before he closed them to concentrate fully on the sensation itself; softly placing his lips onto his father’s and moving them gently against the other’s, who needed a moment until he responded; which, however, he then gently did, much to Connor’s delight. Deep down he had somehow feared his father would deny him this sign of affection, claiming their relationship was about sex, not tenderness. But those worries were wiped from Connor’s mind when Haytham wrapped his arms around him tighter; parting his lips slightly to let his tongue taste the wine from his son’s. Connor clasped his father’s shirt as he pressed up to him; hungry for more, and well aware of how much he had wanted this for weeks now.  
It felt like minutes until they broke apart; their breath heavy and their lips flushed. Haytham let out a short, breathless laugh as he let his head fall back onto the back rest of the couch. “ _That_ was your kinky fantasy?”  
“Yes.” Suddenly Connor felt a bit embarrassed about how he had gone about their first kiss; but well, he told himself, it had worked, hadn’t it?  
“Truly; quite kinky.” Haytham looked at him through half-lidded eyes; displaying a vague, mocking smile. “How very revealing that I could get you to ask for a blowjob just two days ago while you were completely sober; but for this certain… fantasy you obviously had to let some liquid courage push you into action.”  
Connor grinned, blushing slightly; both at the mockery, and the memory of how Haytham’s lips and tongue had felt like on his cock.  
Letting his fingers run musingly from the young man’s neck over his broad chest down to his jeans, the Grand Master proceeded to slowly open them up and give the Assassin’s half-hard cock some long, intense strokes. “Was that specific fantasy all you wanted to do as a celebration? Or are we celebrating a little more? What do you say?”  
“I-I…” With his breath hitching upon being touched like that, Connor’s mind suddenly went rather blank. “Y-Yes, father…”  
“Yes? To what?”  
“C-celebrating a little m-more.” His hips jerked up into the touch; and Connor was still surprised about how his father knew so shockingly well how to touch him; how to make him pant and shiver in a matter of moments.  
“Good. Because I’ve been looking forward to celebrating with you.”, Haytham growled; and before Connor could breathe out any reply, the Templar placed a hand on the young man’s neck and pulled him into another hungry kiss while his other hand didn’t stop its quickening motions. The Assassin’s fingers trembled slightly when he curled them into his father’s shirt; soft, needy sounds escaping his lips into their kiss in the rhythm of his father’s movements.  
“Very well. But we don’t want another suit stained, do we?”, Haytham eventually remarked as he pulled away both his lips and hands from the other’s body.  
“I guess not…” Connor grinned weakly at the memory and staggered to his feet; uncomfortably aware of how much he wanted Haytham’s hands back on him. As if reading his mind, his father didn’t give him any time to head to the bedroom; getting up in a swift movement and pressing against him once more; their lips crashing together as Haytham forced him backwards in the direction of the bedroom. They didn’t mind the few things they knocked over on their way, and Connor only vaguely worried about the wine glass that had tumbled from the coffee table as they had bumped into it. Once the back of his knees were pressed against the bed, he simply let himself fall; pulling his father with him, who leaned over him, still not breaking their kiss. Connor wondered how they had managed weeks without this; it was so terribly arousing to be able to kiss his father like this; and the Templar certainly knew what he was doing.  
Eventually they had to pull away to breathe properly, and with their eyes locked, Haytham started to unbutton his vest, and after he had placed it neatly over the far end of the bed, he continued to take off his shirt.  
Connor simply watched him; unable to resist the temptation to reach down his opened pants and give himself a few strokes; his cock achingly hard thanks to the previous attentions it had received.  
“Not very patient today, are we?” Haytham’s voice was rich and deep, and Connor savored the sound of it just like the sight of the older man undressing for him. Soft sounds left the Assassin’s throat through his parted, flushed lips and he smiled at his father; pushing down his pants just a bit more to be able to touch himself better; his big, dark eyes displaying a dazzling innocence while he continued to pleasure himself. The Grand Master had finally pulled off the shirt and put it away as neatly as the vest; and reached down to open up his pants. Somehow Connor was reminded of that very first time they had slept with each other; and he remembered how aroused he had been to see his father baring his cock for him; all hard and ready to take him right there. This time it didn’t feel too different, even though the young man had seen the other naked countless times since then.  
“Maybe we should confine your hands to the bed, and make sure they stay off what’s mine.”  
His father’s words sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, and Connor couldn’t help but let himself get pushed over the edge by them; letting out a soft groan as he came.  
Shaking his head with a smile, Haytham had taken off his clothes and now leaned over his son again; eyeing the boy, who slowly surfaced from the blissful wave that had washed over him. “Don’t you think, Connor?”  
“Yes, father…”, the young man replied lazily, reaching out for the cuffs which dangled from the bed post, and attaching them to one wrist; holding out his hands for his father to properly close the restraint around the other wrist as well.  
“To the bed, I said.”, Haytham growled pleasantly, and Connor obediently turned onto his stomach to crawl to the head of the bed, and fling the cuffs around one bar; waiting for his father to close them. After he had done so, the Templar ran a hand through Connor’s dark hair, who turned his head to be able to look at his father.  
“Do you want me to take care of you like this?”  
“Yes, father. Please…”  
Giving a pleased hum, Haytham pulled off Connor’s jeans for good, and opened the nightstand next to them to produce the lube from it; pouring some in his hands while his eyes still rested on Connor, who shifted slightly; raising his ass from the blanket a bit and spreading his legs submissively for his father to prepare him.  
“What a good boy you are…”  
Connor could feel his father’s fingers caress his taut round thighs and the soft skin of his ass before a slicked finger teased his entrance and eventually slid into him with the young man’s body readily accepting the intrusion. He was still relaxed from the bliss that had just run through him; and he gave a soft sound of pleasure as Haytham let another finger join the first; by now knowing well how to move them to produce those sweet, wanton moans from the young Assassin’s lips.  
Far too soon for Connor’s liking Haytham pulled his so perfect feeling fingers away again and the young man could hear how his father ripped open a condom wrapper and closed the bottle of lube after slicking himself enough. A shiver of anticipation ran through him, and he clutched the bars of the headboard in order not to be pushed forward against them when the Grand Master would thrust into him.  
“Lift your ass a bit more for me, boy.”  
Doing as he was asked to do, Connor closed his eyes for a moment; trying to concentrate on the feeling of his father’s cock slowly sinking into him.  
“Good boy…”, Haytham growled behind him, pushing into him further and letting out a pleased sigh as his cock was once more surrounded by the hot tightness of the other’s youthful body.  
The Templar’s hands wandered over Connor’s back slowly as he had slid into him completely; tracing the curves of the other’s body and eventually gripping tightly onto his hips as he started to move against him.  
Spreading his legs a bit further, Connor pressed his forehead against his arm as he held desperately onto the bars of his bed; trying to push back against his father and let himself get taken like this. It didn’t take long until he was hard again; especially not after Haytham had made sure to fuck him just in the right angle to get him to pant and writhe beneath him; Connor’s muscles trembling as he arched his back and pulled at the cuffs helplessly; not noticing the reddened marks where the metal chafed against his skin.  
“Father”, he whined, having difficulties to word what exactly he wanted to ask for.  
Slowing his rather rough movements, Haytham ran a hand soothingly over his son’s back. “Am I too harsh with you?”  
“N-no… I just… Please let me come…”  
With an amused shake of his head, the older man huffed an almost inaudible comment about that youthful, hungry, greedy body of his son’s, and leaned over Connor; pressing against him pleasantly and reaching around the young man to be able to curl his hand around the Assassin’s cock.  
“How delightful your little pleas are…”, Haytham breathed out, pulling out almost completely before snapping his hips forward again.  
A strangled sound left Connor’s lips, and he moaned out his father’s name as he felt so close again; the Grand Master’s hand jerking him so pleasantly while his cock reached the young man’s sweet spot with every thrust.  
“So… close again?” Haytham’s voice was breathy and coarse; and Connor could feel how his father’s movements grew more erratic with every thrust; apparently all too close to the edge himself. “Come… come for me, boy…”  
Those breathy words and the feeling of his father shuddering and coming undone behind him sent Connor over the edge; giving a low, helpless sound as he ripped at the restraints and pressed his head into the pillow.  
For a moment they remained as they were; breathing heavily and enjoying how the orgasm washed over them. Then Haytham pulled away and got rid of the condom before he joined Connor on the bed again to uncuff him.  
“Any complaints about my training lately?”  
“No, father.”

***

“I am sorry. I am so sorry. What have I done?”  
The words were faint compared to the numb regret making his head hurt and Connor swallowed heavily as he leaned back in the uncomfortable small hospital chair, not letting go of his father’s hand.  
“I was so angry at you. I felt so humiliated and used. But now… I’m so afraid I trusted the wrong Templar. I just don’t know what to believe anymore. ”

***

Connor had dozed off; lulled to sleep by his father’s steady heartbeat he could feel soothingly against the skin of his back. Haytham had flung an arm around the young man, and his calmed breath waved hot over the Assassin’s neck.  
The tiny alarm clock on the nightstand read 1am when Connor sleepily reached out to take a look at it. Trying not to move too much, he draped the blanket over their bodies and wondered whether or not Haytham would stay with him this night; something he had never done before.  
“Father?”, he asked quietly, not sure whether or not he expected an answer. “Are you asleep?”  
“No.” However, the Templar’s voice sounded husky, as if he had slept before Connor had moved.  
“Are you… are you staying for the night?”  
There was a pause, and for a moment the young man thought his father had fallen asleep. Then Haytham lowly asked, “Do you want me to?”  
“Of course.”, Connor said without hesitation, shifting slightly backwards to be closer to his father’s warm body. He could feel Haytham pulling him even closer than that; his thumb drawing lazy circles on the soft skin of Connor’s stomach.  
“I’ll stay.”  
They remained like this for a while, and Connor enjoyed the gentle attentions; feeling so good and safe in his father’s arms. He felt sleepy, and might have fallen asleep if his father’s voice hadn’t reached him before he drifted off. “May I ask you something?”  
“Sure”, Connor mumbled.  
“Why the restraints?”  
Connor opened his eyes again, blinking sleepily in order to feel a bit more awake; wondering if he could give an answer that wouldn’t sound foolish.  
Shifting so he was lying on his back and could look at his father, the young Assassin sighed. “I…”, he started, studying Haytham musingly. “I can only answer that in regards of myself. That’s not the… I can only speak for myself, not other people.”  
“I am only interested in your reason; not other people’s.”  
Nodding in acknowledgment, the young man eventually continued to talk. “Two reasons. For me. Firstly… I… I need to… overcome this feeling of helplessness; turn the churning of my insides into something I can experience on purpose; something I can… deal with in a secure way, I guess. After mother’s death I felt… lost and helpless. I’ve been in so many situations where I’ve felt helpless and didn’t know what to do. Like this… with this I can… I can overcome it.”  
There was a pause, and Connor looked up into his father’s face that gave nothing away about how he felt about his son’s words.  
“In a secure way? Do you trust me?”  
Connor flinched; yes, truly; in those moments he was basically at his father’s mercy; and they were still Templar and Assassin; enemies.  
“I don’t know. Maybe.”  
Haytham gave a low sound that could mean anything from ‘you shouldn’t’ to ‘I’m glad you do’.  
“I just… let myself fall and be helpless for a moment. And then I come out of it and am still whole. Maybe even better than before.”  
“And the second reason?”  
Now Connor blushed and averted his gaze; but still, he could see his father smirk at the reaction from the corner of his eyes.  
“You just love your Daddy taking care of you, don’t you?”

***

The first light illuminated the sky over Boston even though the sun wasn’t entirely up yet. Blue and purple clouds slowly made their way through a dark blue sea; but Connor wasn’t interested in watching the colors change with the light of day outside; his father had almost made it through the night, and Haytham’s condition seemed stable for now. That was all he cared for right now, and the young man pressed the lightest kiss to the palm of his father’s motionless hand.  
“You’ve almost made it, father. Please… if you can hear me… I’m sorry. Stay with me.”

***

The first light made its way through the opened curtains of Connor’s bedroom, and he gave a soft groan as he woke up for good; blinking and watching the dust dance in a single ray of sunlight while he slowly remembered everything that had happened on the previous evening.  
His head was resting on Haytham’s outstretched arm, and Connor’s body was still pressed close to his father’s.  
Without moving, he just took in the sight that presented itself so peacefully to him: His father on his back, with one hand resting on his lower stomach, just above the blanket that had slipped from their heated skin during the night, and a peaceful yet somehow alert expression on his face while he was sleeping. His silvery hair spilled loosely over his shoulders, and in this early, warm light it almost seemed to glow.  
The high contrast of light and shadow in the direct light was beautiful on his pale skin, and Connor marveled at the sight; wishing he would never forget all those details; every curve of the other’s body; what he felt like so close to his’ and how his scent was now mingled with his son’s. Hoping he wouldn’t wake the other, Connor carefully reached out to let his fingers trail over the older man’s chest and stomach; retracing lines he had drawn with his eyes so many times already; mapping out the scarred yet surprisingly youthful looking body of his father; who had trained and fought for all his life. He loved the way their skin looked flushed against each other like this; how it looked like when his fingers danced over the Grand Master’s pale skin.  
However, when his eyes darted back to his father’s face, he could see Haytham’s grey eyes resting on him mildly; either he had been awake all along or had woken up due to the gentle, exploring touches of his son.  
“Good morning, father.”, Connor said quietly, not sure whether or not he should feel embarrassed for being caught at taking in this sight so greedily.  
Haytham shifted slightly, propping up his head and regarding the boy with sharp grey eyes while he reached out to brush a strand of black hair from Connor’s face. For a moment the young man hesitated, then he leaned in to place his lips questioningly onto his father’s, who returned the kiss slowly and cupped Connor’s blushed cheek. The young Assassin could feel the soft scratch of his father’s stubble against his chin, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself without breaking the lazy kiss; happy that Haytham had stayed for the night.  
“Go on”, the Grand Master said once they broke apart, and it took a moment until Connor realized what he meant. However, when he did, he complied eagerly; his hands returning to his father’s body as he leaned over him.  
It felt oddly domestic to have Haytham so docile and relaxed by his side; but the young man liked it nonetheless. Maybe not as much as having the arrogant Grand Master display his dominance right before he would fuck him; but still, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this happy and safe.  
“I’ve to admit; your hands are not as unskilled as I presumed.”, Haytham growled after a moment of silence, and Connor raised a brow as he trailed his fingers slowly down over his father’s stomach to let the blanket slip from his body as if on accident.  
Shifting slightly, he sat up a bit to be able to lean over his father better; his lips and tongue joining his fingers on their exploration of the other’s body; determined to take this chance to freely map out Haytham’s body; a chance he hadn’t gotten yet, whereas his father had taken his time reconnoitering his son’s.  
“I’ve to be at Abstergo’s in two hours.”, Connor could hear the Templar remark, and with some weird satisfaction the Assassin believed to hear a vague breathiness to his tone; probably caused by the young man’s tongue trailing over his chest and experimentally licking over a nipple on his way down. Connor loved the opportunity to leave a few reddish hickeys on the pale skin, and to his surprise Haytham let him do so; not even complaining when the Assassin’s sharp little teeth scraped over the other’s abused skin.  
With pleasure he noticed how Haytham shuddered slightly as he reached the sensitive skin of the other’s lower stomach; and it wasn’t surprising at all to be able to run his fingers over his father’s erection once he got there.  
Changing his position again, Connor pushed the Templar’s legs slightly apart to be able to kneel over him between them; dark eyes flickering up to meet his father’s grey ones as he let his tongue trail Haytham’s cock languidly. Of course he had had the pleasure to please the older man like this before; but this time his hands were freely roaming over the other’s body, and Connor put that freedom to use. One hand cupped the older man’s balls while the other joined his mouth on his father’s cock; giving the spit-slicked length some long strokes whenever his mouth released it. By now, he could hear Haytham’s breath coming heavier; and once he pressed his tongue to the tip of the other’s cock just to let it be enveloped by his lips to suck on it slightly, he managed to get a low moan out of the older man. Smirking with some satisfaction to himself, Connor continued what he was doing; lapping at the base and making his way up just to take in the other’s cock; his tongue rolling against it while the tip rubbed against the roof of his mouth.  
Saliva covered his fingers and lips;feeling cool on his skin, and the weight and hotness of Haytham’s cock against his tongue let him shudder; unable to suppress a moan as he sank down once more; his eyes closed as he concentrated on this specific task alone.  
Suddenly he could feel a hand grabbing him not all too gently by his dark mane and yank his head up slightly.  
“This is the sloppiest blowjob I’ve ever received.”  
And still, the way Haytham said it, it sounded as if that was a good thing. Connor cracked his eyes open again to smile at his father with flushed, wet lips, his fingers still around the other’s slick cock.  
“I want to sink down on you, father.”  
The morning sun was warm on his skin as he kneeled over Haytham; having fetched the lube from the nightstand where Haytham had placed it in the evening, and now he pushed into himself while the Grand Master rolled on the condom and lubed himself up; letting him have a pleasant view of his son preparing himself for his father’s cock.  
Once he sank down on him, Connor closed his eyes for a moment; just concentrating on the warmth on his skin and the heat building up in his stomach; the slick sound and the soft moans that escaped their throats filling the air; his father’s hands digging into his skin as Connor tried to quicken the pace with which he moved down onto the other.  
“You feel so… so good, f-father.”, he breathed out raptly, opening his eyes again to look down on the other; Haytham’s flushed cheeks and the grey eyes that only saw Connor.  
“Certainly a... marvelous sight…” The Templar’s voice sounded distant, and still, the praise in it made Connor’s heart flutter in his chest; spurring his endeavors to please his father.  
When Haytham’s grip turned almost bruising and his breath was slowly mingled with wanton sounds, Connor started to touch himself to be pushed over the edge as well; wanting to come together on this perfect most singular morning.  
When the orgasm washed over him, Connor collapsed onto his father with a groan; hiding his face in the crook of the other’s neck as he tried to calm down his breath and let his body shiver and cramp; lost in the tingling pleasure. With a soothing clarity Connor knew two things right in that very moment as he leaned onto his father and could feel how Haytham ran a hand through his hair; Firstly – they really needed a shower because Haytham could not turn up to work like this; smelling like sex and his son.  
Secondly –  
“I love you.”, he mouthed against the skin of Haytham’s neck, not daring to say it out loud.

***

It was past six when Connor finally moved to get up; stretching his aching limbs and trying to shake off the exhaustion that seemed to weigh down his whole body with tiredness. Guessing he should get some more coffee, he leaned over his father to place a soft kiss onto his forehead.  
“Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be right back.”  
He didn’t notice the nurse passing him by and didn’t see her entering Haytham’s room just when Connor rounded the corner to the vending machine in the waiting area; searching for some coins in his pockets to buy a cup of disgusting yet caffeinated hospital coffee to keep him awake.

***

Everything seemed like it would work out just the way Connor had hoped.  
He was spending a considerable amount of time with his father now; and even though it was too bad they couldn’t go out in public, they put their time together to good use anyways; and the young man was more than happy to feel close to the other; to trust him and leave those things that separated them behind.  
Their progress on the Timathy Khall case was slow, but it didn’t seem to matter much as long as there still was any. They had found the man who lived in the run-down house their sources had pointed them to - and had discovered that he didn’t know anything of importance. He had been paid by some mysterious man to reach out to certain people the unknown man had described to him along with places where they would be found. These certain people were both Assassin and Templar sources; and it surprised Haytham and Connor how well that mysterious man seemed to know both sides’ sources.  
The next step had been to follow the trail of money. Five grand had been sent to the man’s account for his services; and Connor had given that information to Rebecca, a young Assassin, who was extraordinarily good with computers; and who seemed capable to look through this thicket of shell corporations and accounts that had sent the money around the globe before it ended up in Boston. However; that took some time, and week after week passed.  
And then, one day, it seemed like Connor’s world would fall to pieces. When he got up in the morning, he had no idea that in the evening he would lean over his father bleeding out in some backyard alley because Connor had wanted it to happen.  
Haytham had spent some more nights at Connor’s; and it had become some kind of ritual for them to cook together, have some wine and then retreat to bed. It was domestic, weird and perfect. On that morning, Connor woke up with Haytham already having left. That had happened before; and he always wondered how his father managed to get up without him noticing it.  
When Achilles called in the late forenoon, Connor had just showered and had had no breakfast yet. He answered the phone while pouring himself some coffee. “Yeah?”  
“You need to come by. Rebecca is done. She found the source of the money.” Achilles sounded somewhat upset, and Connor frowned at his tone.  
“Who is it? Is something wrong?”  
“You tell me. Is your Templar associate really trustworthy? Who did you say again you were working with?”

An hour later Connor was tailing a Templar through Boston; his jaw clenched as he wondered what this could possibly mean.  
He certainly knew who Charles Lee was; Haytham’s right hand in the Order in Boston; a high ranking man at Abstergo’s and as far as the Assassins knew, a loyal member of the Templars. So why had he paid someone to spread false information that could lead into an open war between Templars and Assassins?  
And more importantly: Had Haytham known all along? But Connor waited for just the right moment to get his answers.

“I know you paid someone to spread rumors that a certain ‘Timathy Khall’ works for the Assassins. Why? What do you gain from an open war between Templars and Assassins?”  
Connor pressed the Templar against the dirty brick wall in front of them; making sure Charles Lee couldn’t get a good look at him. And since he had never talked to Lee before, he wouldn’t recognize the voice.  
“I don’t know what you are –“, Lee let out; struggling against the tight grip of the Assassin, but Connor pressed him against the wall a bit more violently before he could even finish the sentence.  
“Stop lying. Did you work alone? Did… Did Grand Master Kenway know?” Connor hated how desperate his voice had sounded during those last words; but he couldn’t help it. He had to know – it seemed even more important than the question _why_.  
It took a long while until Lee spoke again, but when he did, his words hit Connor as if they were a physical mass able to injure him. “I… Master Kenway? Why, yes – he ordered me to do it.”  
For a moment Connor felt lost - that couldn’t be true, could it? All those times… Those nights, those evenings… No; that were allegations of a liar; he had to trust his father. “You’re lying again!”  
“No – no, please. I can – I can prove it to you.”  
“How?”, Connor nothing but growled, not believing another word out of the Templar’s mouth.  
“Are you an Assassin?” Lee tried to turn around again, as if trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker’s face; but Connor kept him at bay; not letting him peek around himself.  
“Why?”  
“So you are? Did Connor Kenway send you? Master Kenway’s son, the Assassin?” All of a sudden Lee’s voice was eager, and Connor did not like it one bit.  
“Why?”, he asked again; getting nervous and impatient. This didn’t go as planned. It shouldn’t feel so horrible to get the truth behind the Timathy Khall incident.  
“Well, _he_ ’s my proof.”

***

When Connor returned to the room with a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hands, he instantly had a bad feeling about that nurse leaning over Haytham.  
He hadn’t seen her once during those past, long hours, and not one of the others had given Haytham an injection before. Letting the coffee fall to the floor, Connor was beside the bed in one motion; grabbing the young woman’s wrist almost violently and hoping he wasn’t too late.  
The nurse flinched and looked at Connor with confusion. “What are you-?”  
“No. What are _you_ doing here?”, Connor growled; his eyes narrowed and dark from a lack of sleep and an abundance of despair.  
“What?” Her perfectly colored lips trembled, and for a moment Connor wondered if he was really acting rationally here. After all – _he_ had been the one to try to kill his father. Why would some nurse…?  
“I haven’t seen you here before.”, he said, and noticed how defensive his voice sounded all of a sudden.  
“I… I’m the morning shift. Can you please… please let go of my hand? It… It really hurts.”  
“Sorry.”, Connor mumbled, letting go of the nurse’s wrist but taking the syringe from her anyways. “Why does he need injections all of a sudden? Is he getting worse? Or better?”  
“Oh” Her mouth formed a red little circle, and Connor could almost see her think. “No. It’s just a standard procedure. To help him wake up.”  
“What did you say was exactly in it? And which doctor ordered that?”  
Once again it took her a moment to answer, and by now, the young man certainly didn’t trust her one bit. Glancing at her name tag, he read ‘L. Leirk’, but the name didn’t ring a bell.  
“Why all the questions?” She smiled and brushed a strand of blonde hair behind an ear, and the Assassin guessed that might actually work with some men; but he wasn’t up for anything like it. Especially not right now; right here.  
“Because I’m not letting you give him a shot unless I talk to someone I know - someone I trust, beforehand.”, he said and was almost surprised how cold and determine he could sound.  
The nurse hesitated; looking from Haytham back to Connor; and with another dazzling smile she turned away. “Okay”, he could hear her say as she walked away.

***

“What are you talking about?” Connor almost shook the Templar; feeling helpless and confused; wishing he could just turn around and leave this all behind; pretend everything was just as happy as it had seemed just hours ago. But he had gone this far; and he had to know the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.  
“Who did he tell you he was working with? Did he admit that he and his father met thanks to the Khall incident?” Lee snickered, and it was a sound that made Connor pray the other gave him a reason to just shut him up forever; being surprised at his own anger.  
“What does that have to do with anything?”, he asked impatiently; still hoping it might get evident that the Templar lied.  
“Well… Initially it was just about misdirection, as far as I know. Draw the Assassins’ attention to some conspiracy where there is none; let them investigate something while we make our move. But… he couldn’t know that his son would be there. But that was the jackpot. So easy to manipulate –“  
“That doesn’t prove anything so far; that are only allegations. You could make that up to save your skin.”  
“You’re right – you’re right. But… Look that Kenway Assassin in the eye and ask him about his… _relationship_ to his father.”, Lee said with another snickering laugh and suddenly Connor felt like someone had hit him.  
“Why?” His voice sounded small, and he hoped this wasn’t going where he dreaded it to go.  
“Because he lets himself get _fucked_ by his own father." The satisfaction in Lee's voice and the way he relished every syllable of this sentence let Connor retch. "Me knowing about it is proof! I wouldn’t know anything about it if Master Kenway hadn’t told me what they're doing behind closed doors! Can you imagine? His own son wanting to sleep with him? Wanting Daddy to fuck him?” Lee let out his disgusting little laugh again, and Connor felt nauseous; having trouble to keep Lee against the wall.  
“Master Kenway was highly amused about how clingy that boy had grown so quickly; so easy to handle, to manipulate. I mean… I couldn’t do it, not even for our cause. Fuck my own son – not that I have one. But Master Kenway’s surely… dedicated. And when there’s no use for him anymore, he can easily slit that Assassin’s throat; that boy likes to be chained up; you know, in bed; that kinky little –“  
“Enough!” Connor felt like he would throw up any minute now if that man continued to talk. With one angry motion he slammed Lee’s head against the wall; hard enough to let him pass out, but not so hard he would be severely injured.  
Haytham had betrayed him. Had set the whole thing up; had fucked Connor not out of affection but for information; going through his things while he slept and who knew what else; probably laughing about how eager the boy was to have Daddy take care of him. Tears stung in Connor’s eyes as he turned around and hurriedly left the alley; afterwards not even recalling how he had gotten to the Assassin Bureau.  
He still felt sick, and he had the distinct wish to get a shower. Locking himself in the bathroom for long minutes, he washed himself but couldn’t escape the feeling of being stained. However, the nausea had been replaced by a burning, hot knot of hate in his stomach. That arrogant bastard. Did he really think Connor was that stupid? Thinking that stupid little Assassin wouldn’t find out? As always he had underestimated the Assassins and their resources, Connor thought. But I found out the truth.  
With anger and disgust clouding his mind, the young man imagined Haytham being surrounded by his Templar associates; telling them about their encounters; their most intimate moments, which suddenly were just some dirty joke; telling them how Connor liked to be restrained; telling them how pathetic and needy that young man would beg for Haytham’s cock; that stupid little pervert. And then, he would tell them how he could kill the boy once there was nothing to gain from their little meetings anymore; and maybe this was the moment Connor decided that his father had to die. He would have handed the older man his heart on a silver platter, but Haytham had turned it into some kind of a lewd joke to share with his Templar friends. And this hurt even more than the knowledge the Templar would have killed him.  
When he left the bathroom, he walked straight to Achilles’ little room in their bureau. He didn’t even knock upon entering.  
Truly – they had become politicians; a silent warfare rather – seduction and manipulation instead of assassinations and war. But that had to end now.  
“I know who’s behind all of this. I know who tried to mislead us. We need to act fast; before he is warned by Charles Lee. It's my father. My father has to die.”

***

Connor stayed by his father’s bed; not daring to go to the visitor’s bathroom to splash some water into his face, or to get another coffee; with some regret staring at the brown puddle on the floor where he had dropped the cup.  
At least he did feel slightly more awake after the incident with the nurse; almost expecting her to return any minute with someone from security or the staff to tell him to back off and let the nurses do their job; which might include an injection or two at times.  
Sighing, the young man ran a hand over his face. Had Haytham really betrayed him? And even if – he had not deserved this. Had not deserved to die by his son’s hands.  
When the nurse who had brought Connor coffee earlier that night returned, he wondered if her shift wasn’t over soon.  
“Excuse me…”, he started, and she nodded for him to speak as she checked on the patient – however, no syringes in sight.  
“Does he need to get injections?”  
“Injections?” She turned to look at him with a hint of confusion. “Well, he might get some if there are signs of him rejecting the blood transfusion…”  
“Are there? Signs that he rejects the transfusion?”  
She smiled a tired little smile that still seemed more honest than the dazzling, red lipped smile the other nurse had displayed. “No”, she said, looking at the patient musingly. “He seems to be stable. Maybe he even wakes up soon; his condition is surprisingly good for a man his age. Your father must be a really strong person. I think he will pull through.”  
“Does a nurse with the name… _Leirk_ work here?”, Connor asked, trying to ignore the comment about his father's strength; and all the memories it triggered.  
Thinking for a moment, the nurse raised her brows. “No”, she said after a while, studying the tired looking young man. “Why?”  
“Ah, it’s nothing. I’ve made a mistake.”  
She nodded and was gone a moment later, smiling a last little smile at Connor, who looked right through her as if she was gone already. “I’ve made a mistake…”, Connor repeated as he averted his gaze to look out of the window where the sun slowly rose above the rooftops of Boston and made its way through a blue sky.  
“I almost killed you. But I think I just saved your life.”, he said to himself, almost inaudibly. Who wanted his father dead? And why? He sighed again and leaned back for a moment; trying hard not to fall asleep; it was now more important than ever to stay awake and by his father's side to make sure nothing happened to him.  
When he cracked his eyes open again and returned to look at Haytham’s face, Connor found grey eyes resting vaguely on him. His father's voice was deep from the exhaustion and sounded as if he hadn't talked in ages as he said,  
“I want you to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! For every comment and every kudos that makes me smile like a madwoman! uwu  
> Are you ready to find out what's really going on? Or did Haytham really set this whole thing up; he's a Templar after all, isn't he?


	3. A Crime of Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I did it! This chapter got longer than I expected! I hope y'all like how everything wraps up :>  
> Thanks so much for your comments and kudos! That's what kept me going uwu

“Father, I – “  
Connor slowly rose from the hospital chair; his heart suddenly beating so hard in his chest that he felt like he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. But Haytham averted his gaze to look at the wall rather than his son; his jaw clenched and his expression blank.  
“Get out.”  
Connor opened his mouth to say –  
_Please let me explain.  
Let me tell you how happy I am to see you awake, father; to see you alive after I’ve almost had you killed. Let me explain. Let me ask you whether or not you told them about us; what you told them, because somehow someone knows about us in every detail - and I don’t know what to believe – have you really betrayed me, father? Please say you haven’t turned our relationship into some dirty joke, because I love you. I still love you so damn much. I am so sorry it hurts; I can physically feel the regret. I thought you had betrayed my trust and my love, and I tried to kill you for it because this was, and is, so important to me that nothing else seems to matter; that your betrayal seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I’ve made a mistake, and I am so sorry. Please forgive me, father; one day. I promise to always protect you from now on; I would give my life for you. And you truly are in danger, and even though I do not yet know what’s going on, I will find out; and I swear, I will be there to do whatever is necessary to redeem myself, and to assure your safety. I need you, father, I can’t express how much I do –_  
but no words left his lips.  
“Go!” His father’s voice was cold and rough; and the young man flinched. “Now!”  
Clenching his fists in helplessness, Connor wished he could explain it all, but the confusion and exhaustion weighed too heavy on him to form these words he wanted to say. Eventually, he mutely walked to the door, looking back at his father for one last time, but their eyes didn’t meet.

After Connor had left his father’s room, he wondered what he was supposed to do now; what to feel or think. There was just a steady confusion clouding his mind, and he leaned against the wall next to Haytham’s room; at least knowing for sure that he could not leave the other unprotected. If that one nurse, who had wanted to give Haytham some kind of injection, returned, Connor wanted to be there; wanted to assure his father’s safety. And with some aching doubt he tried to understand why he felt so much worse, now that the Templar was awake and had sent him away - which only seemed like the logical reaction if he didn’t know why Connor had tried to get him killed; which would consequently mean he had not betrayed the other first…  
His mind was racing and at the same time went in circles; if everything between them had been real; if Haytham had felt the way Connor had, then the Assassin had destroyed it.  
But if Haytham hadn’t betrayed him, Lee must have lied. How did he know about them, then? What reason would he have to lie? And who set up the Khall case? Was it Lee, or someone he was working with? It made no sense, and the young man ran a hand over his face; wishing he knew what to do.  
He could hear his father talk quietly on the phone after some time; but his voice was too small to be heard outside of the room; and Connor listened to the low murmur, wishing he would still be there by his side; wishing he could find the right words to explain and beg for forgiveness.  
Instead, he stayed by the door; watching the bustle of the hospital around him; nurses passing by – some of them greeting him since they recognized him, others just watching him curiously and some ignored him altogether in their hurry; doctors making their rounds and scurrying away once their beeper sounded; a chubby girl bringing meds from the pharmacy; visitors and patients passing by, talking in low voices and trying to overcome their general discomfort regarding hospitals.  
Closing his eyes for just a moment, Connor sighed. He tried to think of the right thing to say, but it didn’t seem as easy as he would have wished; and he did not dare to get back into the room where the one person he loved above all lay because of him; having escaped death only by an inch.  
When he became aware of heavier footsteps coming closer, the Assassin opened his eyes and instinctively stepped in front of the door; determined not to let anyone through who he didn’t know and didn’t trust.  
The men were probably Templars; but that didn’t make it any better, if not worse. Maybe they worked for Lee, maybe they were here to finish what Connor had started; even though he had no idea as of why they would do that.  
They studied Connor as they came closer; one of them stepping forward once they had reached him. He was slightly younger than Haytham; maybe five or six years, dark haired, but the most striking thing about him was the scar that Connor immediately noticed; running over the right side of his face.  
“What are you doing here?”, the Templar asked, and Connor crossed his arms; not answering as he stared the other dead in the eye.  
“Is he still alive, or have you killed him now, Assassin?”  
“I’m here to protect him.”, Connor growled; knowing it was a mistake to open his mouth and get in a fight with the other.  
The Templar scoffed. “Protect him? From yourself and the useless Creed you belong to? No one better than me knows how pitiful… But well. We can start retaliation right now, right here...”  
However, the man’s face suddenly lightened up and he stopped talking. It was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that Connor knew why.  
He turned around to look at his father; who somehow had managed to get on his bloodstained clothes in which he had been brought to hospital.  
“What are you doing? You have to rest – “, Connor started but was silenced by his father's stern look.  
“Step aside, Assassin.”  
More out of hurt reaction upon hearing him avoiding to say his name than out of actual obedience, Connor stepped aside; watching mutely how Haytham let himself get supported by the scarred Templar; leaving the hospital without turning back to look at Connor once.

It was noon when Connor left the hospital.  
His shirt was still stained with Haytham’s blood, and even though he longed to go home, shower and change into clean clothes, he couldn’t bring himself to head to his apartment. Just two nights ago he had been there with his father; had told him that he trusted him, had had sex with him and had once more failed to tell him that he loved him. Now it seemed too late for that; now it all seemed shattered; and Connor still didn’t know _why_.  
After running through Boston in a confused state of mind for hours, he eventually ended up in a diner, where he ordered a coffee with the last money he had on him. He sat in a small booth at the far end of the room; hidden by most glances and all by himself with his thoughts and theories; twirling the mug of coffee in his hands. The waitress had looked at him strangely, and it had taken a while until Connor had realized it was because of the dried blood on his shirt.  
The severe lack of sleep in combination with stress and emotional distress was still causing him a pulsating headache, but he tried to keep it together; having to figure out what to do next.  
Taking a sip from the coffee and setting the mug aside, he fiddled with a paper napkin, trying to lay out the facts: _  
Firstly._ Assuming Haytham had indeed not set the Khall case up; then someone had tried to provoke a war between Templars and Assassins. Somehow Charles Lee was connected to that, however, it wasn’t clear why; and whether or not he had been working alone.  
He had stated that Haytham had known, and had proved that he knew about Connor and Haytham’s intimate relationship. By now, Connor had serious doubts that Haytham truly had told him about them, but he couldn’t know for sure.  
If Haytham had not told him, he somehow had managed to spy on them, but why would he? Why did he lie? Maybe, Connor thought, he had known it was me in the alley all along; had counted on me reacting to his words. It would certainly raise a war, if I killed their Grand Master, and the whole Khall incident would have caused a war after all, even though not in the initially planned way.  
Sighing, he emptied the mug of coffee and looked outside. It was slowly getting dark, and he could see his reflection in the window glass. He looked pale, and the dark circles under his eyes only revealed his current state of desperation.  
_Secondly_. The nurse from the hospital had probably been there to finish what Connor had started – started because of Lee’s words; because he had reacted emotionally, not rationally. If Haytham had died in the hospital, under Connor’s watch, right after he had tried to kill him just hours earlier – and of this the Templars could already know for Connor had involved the Assassins and hence left a trail the Templar sources could find – it would look like the Assassin simply finished his job.  
Some way or another, it still led back to the Khall incident and its purpose: A war between Templars and Assassins; a war in which one certain death wouldn’t raise any suspicion; wouldn't lead to some third party getting rid of someone they wanted out of the picture…  
Suddenly Connor realized something; and asking the waitress for a pen, he wrote down two words onto the napkin just to be sure he wasn’t mistaken; then he hurriedly left the diner; not even noticing the dark clouds hiding the stars and just waiting to soak Boston in rain.  
When the waitress collected her pen again and cleared the table, she only vaguely wondered about the napkin, which said: KILL HAYTHAM.

***

  
The rain had surprised them. Three days before Connor would talk to Charles Lee and decide that his father had to die, he and Haytham had made a trip to the outskirts of town; taking the car and preparing an ample picnic for their day. It had been slightly foggy in the morning, but since it was the only day Haytham had entirely off in weeks to come, they went anyways.  
On the plus side, there weren’t many people taking a walk beside them; and they savored the time walking and chatting, not having to mind curious glances; discussing Templar and Assassin world views along with mundane things like the upcoming mayoral election.  
When the rain came over them, they scurried under the veil-like branches of a large willow tree nearby; feeling safe from the weather when the heavy rain rushed over the forest; wetting the young green of the plants, and letting their twigs bow under the weight of water.  
They stood for a moment under the shielding roof of the willow and listened to the soft noises of the forest. Connor put the backpack, which Haytham had filled with an abundance of food and even a bottle of wine, aside and looked at his father; brushing wet hair out of his own face and reaching out to do the same for Haytham, whose greying hair clung to his skin. The young man really loved the way his father looked in his casual clothes; a rather tight black shirt under his motorcycle jacket instead of his usual elegant three piece suit.  
The Templar averted his gaze from the green branches to look at his son, and raised his brows at the soft touch. The young man could feel the other’s gaze running hungrily over his body, and when he looked down, he could see how his own washed-out, white band shirt clung to his body, wet and almost translucent. His father’s hands were on him before he even had the chance to look up again, and he let out a soft sound of surprise when Haytham pressed against him.  
Closing his eyes for a moment, he listened to the soft, rushing sound of the rain and let Haytham’s lips and teeth trail over the arch of his neck. When he could feel his father playfully biting down onto the wet skin, he let out a soft groan; cracking his eyes open and trying to pull away half-heartedly. “Don’t… don’t do that. You know I… I like that. We can’t…”  
Humming darkly, Haytham pulled away slightly, smiling mildly at Connor and then leaning in for a kiss, which the young man hesitantly returned; wishing he could simply ignore the attentions and prevent blood rushing south mercilessly since there was no way of indulging in those things out here.  
Slowly, the Templar urged the young man backwards, and soon Connor could feel the willow’s bark press rather uncomfortably against the skin of his back.  
With a shiver he broke the kiss to catch his breath, being well aware of his own arousal now pressing against his father’s thigh; knowing Haytham must feel it.  
As soon as Connor had pulled away his lips from the other’s, the Grand Master returned to gently suck and bite at the sensitive skin of Connor’s neck and collar bone; by now knowing all too well what his son enjoyed. Panting, the young Assassin bared his neck further; feeling like a sheep offering his throat to the wolf, even though he very well knew that he was a predator, too.  
Haytham’s fingers slipped under the damp shirt and caressed the young man’s body affectionately, wandering over the heated skin so softly that it made Connor shiver; a touch he almost didn’t feel, and which left him just aching for more.  
His hands curled into his father’s shirt beneath the other’s jacket, and he simply let his head fall back against the tree, enjoying the attentions and wondering how Haytham had planned to resolve this, since they could most definitely not have sex right here, could they?  
“Father…”  
“Yes?” Haytham’s tone was mild as he reached down to palm the other’s cock through the fabric of his jeans, and rubbed against it slightly; obviously pleased to see how Connor squirmed beneath the touch and ripped at his father’s shirt in a desperate attempt to get his reactions under control again.  
“P-please don’t tease me like this. Not here, where we c-can’t… can’t…”  
“We can’t? Who says we can’t? Isn’t it tempting? We could get caught.”  
Opening his mouth to protest, a soft moan passed Connor’s lips when his father’s one hand increased the pressure with which it rubbed against his son’s cock, and the other ran a finger over a nipple teasingly.  
“We don’t have…”  
“We have everything we need. _I_ packed after all.”, Haytham remarked with an arrogant smirk; arching a brow and pulling away his hand from the young man’s crotch to unzip Connor’s pants.  
Letting out a helpless groan, Connor just prayed that no one would come by; that no one else would seek shelter under this tree.  
“Come now, turn around, boy.”  
Hesitantly letting go of Haytham’s shirt, Connor turned around; facing the tree and placing his hands on the rough surface of its bark; feeling awkwardly exposed with his pants undone and the tip of his cock bared while Haytham reached for the backpack and undoubtedly retrieved a condom and lube. Both cursing and blessing him for packing such things, Connor wished he himself wasn’t so needy; wasn’t so excited about the prospect of getting fucked where they could get caught.  
When Haytham’s hands returned to his body, he shivered under the touch; closing his eyes for a moment when he could feel the other’s hand slip under his jeans; pressing a slick finger against his entrance with just enough pressure to let the tight ring of muscles be slightly stimulated, but not enough to really push inside. Bowing his head slightly, Connor groaned; pushing back against his father’s hand but to no avail.  
“Father…”  
Giving a mild hum, the Templar circled the other’s entrance with his finger as good as it was possible with Connor’s jeans not being pushed down properly; his other hand eventually reaching around the young man to rub against his erection and flick his thumb over the bared tip.  
Letting out another low, wanton sound, Connor’s grip onto the bark grew tighter; his hips desperately trying to find a way to move in a way to increase the stimulations.  
A pleased growl escaped his lips once Haytham stopped the teasing and pushed inside of him; his finger soon having joined a second while his other hand had pushed down the young man’s jeans just a little more to be able to give his cock some good strokes. Panting heavier now, Connor shivered in anticipation; his heart still racing at the mere thought of someone coming by now; of someone entering this tiny shelter of the willow’s long, shielding branches.  
After having prepared the young Assassin sufficiently, and quite apparently being pleased at how needy he seemed by now, Haytham pulled away and Connor could hear him undo his belt and unzip his pants. With a groan he waited for his father to roll on the condom and lube himself up; feeling all too exposed like this; his ass and cock bared while his pants bridged between his legs, which he couldn’t spread as far as he would have liked to.  
When the Grand Master pressed against him from behind, Connor could feel his cock against the skin of his ass, and he took in a sharp breath as he waited for Haytham to slide inside of him; his hands digging into the bark of the tree as his body jerked at the realization that they would indeed _do it right here_.  
“Father…?”  
“Yes?” Haytham’s voice was husky and his breath waved hot over Connor’s damp neck.  
“Are there others?”  
Connor could almost feel the puzzlement when his father hesitated for a moment. However, that moment seemed over soon, and he could hear a breathy little laugh close to his ear. His father’s cock nudged his entrance teasingly before the Templar pressed against him in all earnest; slowly pushing inside of him.  
Trying to bite back a moan, Connor still waited for an answer; pushing back against the other and shivering in both want and pleasure.  
He could feel Haytham teasingly nibbling at his ear before he answered lowly, “Of course not.”  
Opening his mouth to answer, Connor suddenly heard laughter nearby. Blushing furiously, he almost jumped at the unexpected reminder that this was public property, but Haytham wrapped his arms around the young man instantly; placing a hand firmly over his mouth and the other arm around his waist. With one swift movement, the Templar pushed forward, and slid all the way into the young Assassin's body. Since Connor wasn’t able to properly spread his legs, it felt so much tighter than usual; and it was almost as if he could feel the other filling him out more intensely. Actually being glad that Haytham had covered his mouth, he could still hear a strangled, muffled sound leaving his lips when his father moved against him and he leaned back against the other as good as possible, resting the back of his head against the Templar’s shoulder.  
Haytham’s breath came a bit heavier now, and Connor squirmed in his grip when his father licked over the abused skin of his neck, where undoubtedly still reddish hickeys lingered.  
Now the voices seemed nearer, and Connor shuddered; his cheeks reddening further, and it felt like his heartbeat could drown out the sound from outside. Then he could hear the breathy, deep voice of his father close to his ear, saying, “You are squeezing me so delightfully tight whenever you’re worried they might discover us. Quite intoxicating, don’t you think, boy?”  
Unintentionally clenching up around the other’s cock, Connor let out a helpless, soft sound that was muted by the other’s hand on his mouth, but he was quite sure Haytham could feel it against his fingers whenever Connor made any noise at all.  
Vaguely, he thought about the two things he had learned in this moment; firstly, Haytham apparently liked to have sex in semi-public places; and secondly – this was serious. It had to be; when they both weren’t seeing anyone else; when they were both exclusively fucking only the other, it simply had to be.  
Haytham’s movements quickened and the low noises he made close to Connor’s ear were spurring the young man's arousal up to a point where he reached down and started to jerk himself in order to grant his aching cock some release while the other hand still pressed against the tree to steady them.  
However, his father seemed to have other ideas and gently slid his hand from around Connor’s waist down to shoo his hand away. Giving a displeased huff, the young Assassin squirmed in his father’s grip but obediently returned his hand to the tree and let Haytham take care of him. He tried to listen to the other ramblers; hoping they were gone; but all he could hear were the noises of the forest and the dripping sounds of rain.  
The Grand Master slid his hand under his son’s shirt while he rolled his hips teasingly slow; only once in a while pushing inside deep enough to reach Connor’s sweet spot. He let his fingers run over the young man's chest; circling a nipple in soft movements before giving it a gentle pinch, which let Connor’s body jerk; unsure to which stimulation to react to.  
“I love how sensitive your chest is.”, Haytham breathed out, and a muffled moan escaped through the older man’s fingers from the Assassin’s mouth. Sucking and biting the damp skin where neck and shoulder met, the Grand Master added after a moment with his lips barely leaving Connor’s skin, “I was wondering… whether or not you would be interested to… to take a small trip to Europe during summer, when this whole mystery is resolved. I was planning on taking two weeks off and travel home to Britain; maybe make a small tour along the coastline. You could join in.”  
Trying to look back at Haytham in surprise - for a moment thinking he might be kidding - Connor simply nodded, unable to really answer with his father’s hand still covering his mouth.  
“Very well.”  
With that, the Grand Master finally granted the other release; reaching down and starting to give him long and good strokes while he pushed into him more forcefully; trying to get the angle just right when he thrust into him completely.  
Once more glad about his father’s hand muffling most of the rapt sounds pouring from his lips, Connor closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the pleasure running through him; hearing distant voices and the rain along with the soft panting of his father close to his hear; feeling the other’s cock fill him out so pleasantly and reaching his sweet spot more often now that he pushed in as far as Connor’s body would allow.  
Pressing back against his father’s shoulder, the young man shuddered and came; clenching up tight around the Templar’s cock as he let out a strangled sound and hoped it wasn’t as loud as it had sounded in his ears, muffled or not.  
Whispering gentle praise, the Grand Master wiped his hand clean from his son’s cum on Connor’s boxers and gripped onto his hip; thrusting inside of him a little rougher until he arched against him one last time and came with a soft groan breathed out against the damp skin of the young man’s neck.  
Finally pulling his hand from Connor’s mouth, they leaned onto each other and let their breath calm down; and once again, the young Assassin was all too sure that this would work out just the way he wished it to. They would find out who was behind the Khall mystery, and have great victory sex. In Europe. This was it, and there were no others.

***

  
The wind had picked up force and the trees swayed under its growing fierceness as the young Assassin made his way toward Haytham's house. The Templar's residence of the Grand Master was just outside of town, and it had taken Connor more than an hour to get there. High walls surrounded the estate, and he could see the old Victorian building only partially from afar; not even being sure whether or not there was still light.  
Guessing they wouldn’t let him in if he was to simply ring the doorbell, he rounded the smooth concrete walls, which were absolutely not climbable, in order to find a spot where he might be able to get inside some other way.  
The Templars had certainly thought about the construction of security measures, but Connor guessed they hadn’t thought of someone being able to climb trees the way he was. There were several high ones, which few people would be able to climb, and one of them even reached over the walls with its thick branches.  
Pulling off his shoes and socks and leaving them behind, he slowly made his way up with knowing holds; vaguely feeling reminded of his childhood days, in which he had learned how to climb trees no one else would be able to get up.  
Once he was high enough, he balanced over a thick branch until he had passed the wall beneath him and was able to swiftly jump to a tree within the estate; only having to be careful of the wind moving the trees. When he had gotten down safely again, he stood in the tree’s large shadow and watched the house, which lay still before him. He hoped this was even where Haytham had headed after the other Templars had picked him up from hospital; and with a sigh he prayed he wasn’t too late if they really were working for Lee.  
Walking up to the house carefully, Connor tried to look into the rooms, but only saw someone who wasn’t Haytham watching TV downstairs. Eventually he decided to look in the upper rooms where there was light, for which he started to climb the façade of the house; by now wishing he still had his shoes for it was terribly cold without them.  
In the only room in which he had seen light from down below, he could indeed spot Haytham. The Grand Master seemed to be reading; he sat on a vast couch, his eyes resting on a small book in his hands, even though it rather looked like he saw right through it.  
Leaning onto him and apparently sleeping, the scarred Templar sat, his arms crossed and the expression on his face docile. Wishing he wouldn’t feel so incredibly jealous by someone simply leaning onto his father, Connor swallowed heavily and tried to concentrate on the relief running through him upon finding Haytham alive and well; apparently rather protected by those other Templars than in danger.  
Just when he was about to consider how to make himself felt, Haytham looked up and straight at him. Shuddering under the glance, Connor raised a hand, hoping his father recognized him in the dark and didn't think he was here to attack him. Holding tightly onto the outer window sill, he watched his father hesitate for a moment, and hoped he would let him in.  
Haytham eventually put the book aside and leaned close to the other Templar; shaking him slightly and talking to him. Connor couldn’t hear a word through the closed window, and he almost expected the scarred Templar to get up and attack him. But apparently his father hadn’t told the other about him, because the younger man just nodded sleepily and shifted so Haytham could get up.  
The Grand Master gestured toward a door on the right, and Connor climbed to the window of the room behind it, which Haytham opened once he had entered the room and had closed the door behind him. While Connor got inside, his father took a seat in a large wing chair, which was the only place one could sit in the small library, in which Connor now found himself with the older man.  
Hesitantly staying by the opened window, the young man looked at his father; suddenly being mute again, not knowing what to say, even though he had rehearsed phrase after phrase on his way to the Templar estate.  
“Have you come to finish the job?” Haytham’s voice still sounded rough, and with a dull pain Connor looked at the bandage around his neck, wishing his father had stayed in hospital for a few days longer; just to make sure he was well rested and at least healed up enough to really go out and about.  
“No”, Connor started, crossing his arms and biting his lower lip. “I’ve come to – to talk to you.”  
“About what? Haven’t I made myself clear that I do not wish to see you again?” Raising his brows, the Templar shook his head as if in disbelief of the other's stupidity; his audacity to show up just like this.  
Opening his mouth to answer the question, Connor eventually simply remarked, “You’ve let me in.”  
Haytham studied him, but his expression didn’t give anything away. “And what do you think that means?”  
“I…” Connor stepped a bit closer, his eyes locked with his father’s. “I think you want to know why.”  
Haytham let out a short, joyless laugh and averted his gaze; looking through the room as if it was new to him, and only eventually glancing back at his son, who mutely awaited a response.  
“I know why.”, the Templar said after a pause. “You’re an Assassin, _that’s_ why. What did I expect? I thought I was… too experienced. Too smart. I thought I had figured you out. And it nearly cost me my life to believe that even a young heart could be steady. I actually believed you were…”  
Not finishing his sentence, the unspoken words still seemed to fill the room like smoke; _I  actually believed you were in love with me_.  
“Father, I – !“  
“Lower your voice, or my bodyguard outside will wake up and assume you’re trying to finish what you’ve started. I doubt he'll have any scruples shooting you.”, Haytham said coldly, nodding towards the door behind which the younger Templar slept.  
Connor took another step towards his father to be heard, even if the words leaving his lips were barely more than a whisper.  
“You do _not_ know why.”  
Narrowing his eyes, Haytham scoffed at those words. “Enlighten me then, Assassin.”  
Falling to his knees next to the wing chair and reaching out for his father’s hands to hold onto, Connor dropped his gaze. He could feel the Templar stiffen at his touch, and somehow it hurt; he recalled so well how the other would relax under his touch; how he could make his father feel good merely by touching him.  
Still, Haytham didn’t pull his hands away, and Connor looked up to him again; hoping this gesture helped to convey what he was about to say.  
“You were right.”, he said slowly, holding onto Haytham’s hands desperately. “I love you.”  
His father opened his mouth to say something and it clearly wasn’t going to be something nice, but Connor shook his head before he could speak. “I love you, father. I’ve said it to myself so many times to be able to say it to you; but somehow I never dared to. I said it silently against your skin, over and over again, I muttered it in my dreams when we would sleep, and I would whisper it to the night when I was alone. And it’s the reason why. I wanted to tell you how I felt – and then, then I talked to Charles Lee.”  
Connor studied his father’s face closely; waiting for a sign that Haytham had told Lee about them; but there was nothing but a slight hint of confusion in his father’s grey eyes.  
“He said you ordered him to pay someone to spread the Timathy Khall rumors.”  
Now Haytham made a face of disbelief, but when he spoke, he said something else than Connor had expected him to, “And you believed him above me? You tried to… kill me because of _that?_ You could’ve trusted me like you said you did – after all those months – you could’ve called me, and talked it over – “  
“I didn’t. I didn’t believe him. At first… ” Connor swallowed heavily. Now the hard part. “Did you tell him about us?”  
“About…?”  
“About _us._ ”, Connor repeated; feeling how his cheeks burned. “About the… sort of our… relationship...” There was no nice way to say it, he figured and sighed. “Did you tell him I let you fuck me? Did you tell him how I liked to be restrained when you would take me? Did you turn that into some joke to share with your Templar friends?”  
Pulling away his hands with a harsh gesture, Haytham crossed his arms and furrowed his brows; quite obviously hesitant to believe where this was going, and his eyes were dark as Connor looked into them. “Why would I do that?”, the Grand Master eventually asked slowly.  
Connor sighed and simply rested his head onto his father’s lap; closing his eyes and trying to determine what exactly he felt: Happy that it wasn’t true after all, or horrified what he had done because he had believed it to be.  
Feeling how Haytham’s hand hesitantly ran through his hair, he felt like crying.  
“He said you told him. He _knew._ He even knew about the restraints, and I swear, I haven’t told anyone. _Ever._ I didn’t… I couldn’t think of any way he would know it if you hadn’t told him. It was humiliating to hear him talk about… my most intimate… proclivities. His obnoxious way of turning something I’ve loved so much, into something lewd and dirty. That’s why I…” His voice trailed off, and he tried to clear his throat. Shifting a bit to face his father again with his head still resting on the other’s thigh, Connor’s eyes shone with tears.  
“I felt so humiliated. So used. It wasn’t even that Lee said you would kill me while I was tied up and at your mercy; it was… the thought of you turning everything I felt between us into a joke.”  
“I shall be honest with you, Connor.”, Haytham said after a moment of silence, and there was a mildness to his tone again that caused the young man to let out an inaudible sob.  
“My father has never lied to me, and I shall keep that tradition. I thought about it. I thought about using your trust, and it crossed my mind that I could kill you.”  
There was a long pause, and Connor waited for him to continue.  
“I wouldn’t be Grand Master if that hadn’t crossed my mind. I have always put the Order first; do what is necessary, avoid personal entanglements.”  
Haytham’s fingers played with a dark strand of Connor’s hair, and the young man could feel how tears silently ran down his cheeks and wetted the fabric of his father’s pants; not because of the other’s words but because of this affectionate gesture that reminded him so much of everything that had been between them; those peaceful, trusting moments that were gone; probably forever. The Templar’s gaze was directed out of the window, but it seemed like he looked further than just the trees in front of it; as if he could see something beyond the horizon.  
“I do not know why Lee lied. He’s a loyal Templar as far as I can tell. However, I have neither set up the Khall case, nor told him, or anyone, about our private matters. I have kept our encounters to myself, and you have always been safe with me, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”  
It was the first time Connor actually heard his native name from his father’s lips without it being a feverish dream; and he buried his face in his father’s shirt, as his hands held onto it. Sobs shook his body, as he muttered apologies, not even knowing whether or not they were in English.  
“I forgive you, boy, if that’s what you came to hear. But I still want you to leave and never return to me.”  
Connor’s head jerked up and for a moment he didn’t know what to say. “What?”  
“It’s not that you’ve tried to kill me. I suppose even without a reason like the one you’ve just told me about, it might have ended with that. You're an Assassin, and our goals will never align. It was foolish of me to believe this would… remain.”  
“Father; please, I beg you – “  
“ _Go._ ”  
“I can’t. I can’t leave you!”  
Haytham furrowed his brows, sighing as he attempted to get up and push the young man away, who still held onto his father’s tear-soaked shirt and prevented him from getting up.  
“You don’t understand – someone tried to kill you. Still wants to. It’s not over.”  
“Yes. And I believe that certain _someone_ is right in front of my eyes.”  
“No! Didn’t I just… I would never… I’m sorry. I mean there is… Someone – someone else. When you were in hospital. A nurse came by to give you an injection; – a woman with a fake name and a fake smile. I asked, and the other nurse who I had talked to earlier already, said you didn’t need any shot – “ Feeling how little sense his words made, Connor only grew more desperate with every utterance; wishing he could just explain it all without it sounding so nonsensical.  
“Did she give me that injection now, or didn’t she?”  
“I kept her from doing it. I wouldn’t let her. There was something off about her – and I was… I couldn’t… Please don’t send me away, father. Let me help. There is something else going on – if you haven’t set up everything, then who has? Why has Lee lied? How does he even know about us and what does he gain from lying? Father – they want you dead. The whole war between Assassins and Templars was only part of it, believe me. Some decoy to avert our attention. From what? What are they doing that they want neither Templars nor Assassins to see? Especially since at least one Templar is involved we have to find out the truth in order to keep you safe! They want you dead, father; they want you dead... Do you know why? Do you know why someone wants to kill you? Why Charles Lee might want to kill you? _Timathy Khall_ ; that name; if you rearrange the letters, it spells ‘Kill Haytham’.”  
There was a long pause, and Haytham looked musingly down onto his son; quite obviously considering his words.  
“I certainly have to work this out by myself if you are right and they are after my life. You would only be in danger. Only be in my way. Leave now, Connor.”, he eventually said; leaning back slightly and regarding his son with a clouded expression.  
“Please don’t send me away, father. I would give my life to protect you; to make up for what I’ve done.”  
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”  
And still, there was a softness to his voice; a tenderness taking the edge off his demands for Connor to leave.  
“Father, please… You don’t want me in danger. You care. And you know how I feel about you; about us. I –“  
“How often do I have to repeat myself until you understand, Assassin? Get up now and stop embarrassing yourself.”  
Struggling to his feet, Connor wished he knew how to convince his father to let him stay; to let him make up for what he had done.  
He stood before the other for a moment; not willing to leave. Cautiously, he leaned closer; watching his father carefully as he rested a knee onto the wing chair and hovered over him; almost expecting Haytham to push him away. But his father just returned his son’s gaze wordlessly, and Connor could almost feel the other’s inner struggle as he placed his lips onto the older man’s.  
It took a moment, but eventually the Templar responded softly to the gesture; even deepening their kiss as Connor pressed closer; now resting his weight onto his father’s lap; feeling both so reminded of their past shared moments, and misplaced at the same time; feeling the other’s hesitation and just wishing desperately it could be as it had been just two days ago.  
Pressing up to his father, Connor’s kiss was rough and yet loving; a frantic attempt to make this feel any better; to convince himself that their relationship wasn’t lost after all. His hands carefully ran through the other’s hair but stopped once they reached the bandaged neck; and Connor shivered with the thought of it; with the knowledge that this was his doing.  
Only pulling his lips barely away to take a breath now and then, Connor didn’t want the kiss to end; afraid of being send away once it did. His hips grinded against Haytham’s crotch; and he couldn’t help but getting lost in the idea that sex would certainly make everything better; that this way, he could show Haytham that he truly cared for the other. He had never told his father that he loved him until just moments ago, but he had expressed his affection by spending those days and nights with his father; by sleeping with him, and showing trust especially in those intimate moments.  
Giving low sounds into their kiss, Connor let his body do what he had done so many times before; his hands slowly working on Haytham’s shirt as he pressed against him; wanting to let the other feel that he was aroused; where this was heading.  
“Connor…”, the Grand Master let out into their kiss, weakly trying to push the young man away; his breath coming a bit heavier now. “My bodyguard’s just outside…”  
“I’m… I’m your bodyguard. I swear; I’ll redeem myself, father… I’d give my life to abate my guilt; to make you believe I love you. To make you understand how sorry I am.”, Connor breathed out against his father’s neck as he fumbled with the belt; getting it open only after a moment and proceeding to unzip his father’s pants just to reach to open up his own.  
“Connor… stop this. I don’t have condoms here – heavens, I don’t even have lube.”  
“I need you father; I’ll just use my spit; my cum; it doesn’t matter.”  
“Connor.” Haytham’s tone was warningly deep now; and when he grabbed his son’s wrist to stop him, it wasn’t gentle anymore.  
“You won’t feel better when we have sex like this. You won’t feel less guilty after you’ve taken my cock without a proper lubricant and have hurt yourself. You won’t feel more loved or less guilty about what you have done by letting me take you now.”  
“Then I’ll just…”  
Shifting back, Connor slid from Haytham’s lap onto the floor between his legs; mouthing at his father’s cock through the fabric of his unzipped pants and with some vague relief feeling its firmness against his lips. Reaching out to pull down the other’s underwear to bare his cock enough to be able to take it into his mouth, he curled one hand around the base and touched himself with the other; barely being able to push his hand into his own jeans for they felt so terribly tight.  
“Connor…” Haytham’s voice sounded strained, but he didn’t say No; didn’t send him away after all; didn’t push him away, so Connor continued what he was doing; licking over the tip of his father’s cock with light pressure, and then wrapping his lips around it; sucking softly as he tried to take in as much as he could. After he had sunken down and had tried to swallow around the other’s cock, he started to bob his head; still stroking himself in a desperate attempt to make this feel any better.  
It wasn’t anything like that one, lazy morning that already felt so very far away; that first night Haytham had spent at his apartment; and it also felt nothing like those other times he had sucked off his father before. The feeling of those previous times had been intimate; erotic; while this was desperate, and Connor felt it violently. Closing his eyes, he tried to reconnect to how he had felt those times before; aroused by letting his tongue trail his father’s cock; by the sounds he could force over the Grand Master’s lips with this; dazzled by their intimacy and happy about their relationship being as illicit and yet fulfilling as it was. However, now he waited for anything like that to well up in him; any sign of this being more than pure desperation; but nothing of the like happened and it just seemed to be a rather pitiful attempt to reconnect to something that was lost.  
Haytham clutched the armrests, and his panting grew quickly into the softest moans; sounds that he tried to suppress but that were still audible. It was over soon; and the young Assassin swallowed the warmth spilling in his mouth; wiping his lips with the back of his hand only to let it curl into the fabric of Haytham’s pants, onto which he held firmly as he jerked himself faster. He leaned against the other’s thigh; soft sounds pouring over his lips as he was eventually pushed over the edge as well; staining his shirt further as he came. Panting heavily, he just remained as he was for a little while longer; not feeling any better at all; neither satisfied nor loved.  
“Please don’t send me away.”, Connor repeated with a small voice, his eyes still closed as he kneeled on the floor; letting his heartbeat and breath calm down.  
“Fine…”, Haytham replied breathily, hesitantly running a hand through Connor’s hair and letting out a deep sigh as he reached down to close his pants and belt. For a moment it seemed as if he wanted to get up as he moved; but he solely shifted and patted the small space next to him for Connor to join. “Come. Get some sleep. You look like hell. I’ll stay by your side, and we will think about what to do about this matter in the morning.”  
Struggling to get up, Connor closed his pants with vaguely trembling fingers and squeezed into the small space next to his father. He tried to cuddle up to the older man as good as possible; feeling like a child when Haytham wrapped an arm around him and repeated mildly, “Get some sleep.”  
Curled up by his father’s side, Connor felt the exhaustion wash over him; the tiredness and sadness running through him as he wished once more that he could undo what he had done; knowing that he couldn’t, and that every desperate attempt to make it better couldn’t make it better at all. Before sleep overtook him, he told himself that he would stop pitying himself; that he would concentrate all the frustration and anger he felt onto the people responsible for this mess; Lee and whoever might be behind it along with him.

His sleep was restless; and his dreams melancholic. However, the only sequence that lingered in his mind when he slowly woke up, was Haytham kissing his cheek and telling him how much he loved him. With a dull worry, Connor opened his eyes and stretched his aching back; not being used to sleeping in a chair.  
The window was still slightly opened and the curtains were waving in the wind; dark dots of rain painting a vague pattern onto the light fabric. There was thunder in the distance, and gusts of wind carried heavy drops of rain with them; already having created small puddles on the window sill.  
Getting up sleepily, Connor closed the window and looked around; his father was nowhere to be seen. And still; he couldn’t have been asleep for the whole night, because his shirt still had this one sticky, wet spot that hadn’t dried at all, and it was still dark outside.  
Once more, the Templar had managed to get up without waking Connor, and he wondered where Haytham had gone; hoping he would come back soon.  
Sitting down onto the wing chair again for a few minutes, the young man eventually decided not to wait for his father but to look where he had gone; just to assure his safety. He opened the door to the next room carefully; taking a peek before slowly stepping inside, where the scarred Templar still slept on the vast couch, which looked so much more comfortable than the wing chair.  
There was only one door at the far end of the room, and the Assassin noiselessly walked towards it, now again rather glad he wasn’t wearing shoes. He guessed the door would either lead to another hallway or stairs that would take him to the room where he had seen someone watching TV. It turned out to be the latter; and Connor was about to get downstairs, when he could hear the quiet clicking sound of the safety catch of a gun being released.  
“Don’t move, Assassin.”  
For a second, Connor’s heart missed a beat when he slowly raised his hands to indicate he wasn’t armed; not even having a hidden blade mechanism around his wrist.  
“Turn around.”  
He did as he was asked and looked at the scarred Templar, who had apparently not been asleep after all.  
“Are you here to finish your mission?”  
Mutely shaking his head, Connor let his hands slowly sink again; however still holding them slightly up not to threaten the other.  
“What do you want? Answer me.”  
“I… I’m looking for my father.”  
“To do what?” The Templar narrowed his eyes and still pointed the gun at Connor; quite obviously just waiting for a reason to shoot.  
“To… to talk. He’s in danger, I…”  
“ _You_ are the danger.” There was a bitter gleam in the other’s eyes and the young Assassin wondered whether or not Haytham knew how much that man cared for him.  
“I would love to show you what I think you deserve for attacking - our Grand Master. But he explicitly advised us not to kill you.” He looked at Connor as if he was trying to figure out why; why the Grand Master tried to spare that Assassin’s life, who had been, as Master Kenway had already mentioned on the phone when he had called from hospital, responsible for the life threatening attack on him. He usually wasn’t so soft, and had never especially cared about his son anyways.  
“I’m not. I’m not here to kill him.”  
“No? Then why do you keep lying?”  
“Lying?” Making a face, Connor let his hands finally sink down completely, however, not letting them out of the Templar’s sight; guessing he shouldn’t give him a reason to disobey his father's orders.  
“You say you simply came to talk; and yet, you have been here for a while already. For what, if you haven’t found and talked to him? Have you looked for information in the library?” When he noticed Connor’s irritated glance, he added, “Your clothes and hair are not wet at all. It’s raining for more than an hour now; and still, there’s no…”  
Connor followed his gaze and blushed when he noticed that one wet stain on his shirt; hoping the Templar would come up with another explanation for it than its real reason.  
“I… yes; I talked to him already. But I… I must have fallen asleep in the wing chair… When I woke up, he was gone, and I’m… I just want to make sure he is safe.”, he said hastily, wanting to shift the focus from his clothes to the urgent matter at hand again.  
“Well…” Finally lowering his gun, the Templar sighed. “I don’t believe you. And I want you to leave once I have assured Master Kenway’s safety. Don’t get out of my sight, and don’t try anything; I won’t hesitate to shoot you when you give me a plausible reason. Understood?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good. Stay here, and don’t move.” With that, the Templar carefully got to the room from which Connor had just come and looked inside; making sure their Grand Master wasn’t in there and currently bleeding out on the floor. Connor remained where he was; knowing it made no sense to anger the other, especially since he needed to stay in this house for a little while longer until Haytham had reappeared.  
The Templar looked both displeased and relieved when he came back and hadn’t found Haytham.  
“He’s most likely downstairs. Go.” Gesturing with the gun, the Templar waited for Connor to walk downstairs, which he carefully did.  
The room, which he had seen from the outside when he had arrived at the estate, was still lit by the TV, but the Templar in front of it was fast asleep and didn’t wake up when the two of them entered. There was no sign of Haytham, and the scarred Templar stepped forward to shake his colleague awake.  
“Eh, wake up! Where is Master Kenway?”  
“Master…?”  
Sleepily sitting up, the other Templar noticed Connor and frowned, glancing questioningly back to the older Templar. “I don’t know, Sir.”  
“Go and look for him. We are here to assure his safety, so let’s do that. He must have gotten up while we slept.”  
The younger Templar nodded and left the room. Connor could hear him shout out for Master Kenway, Sir, and sincerely hoped he would find him.  
Looking at the scarred Templar, who still had his gun ready by his side, the Assassin crossed his arms and waited; nervously trying not to fiddle with the sleeves of his shirt, and trying to ignore his cold feet.  
“He’s not here, Sir.” The younger Templar came back inside the room breathlessly; having run through the house to no avail; unable to find their Grand Master. “His phone is off. And the motorcycle is gone.”  
“I…” Connor cleared his throat. “I think I might know where he has gone.”

Five minutes later they were in the scarred Templar’s car on their way to Charles Lee’s residence. They had reluctantly handed Connor some spare socks, shoes and a fresh shirt to change into; which, as Connor guessed, belonged to Haytham for at least the shirt smelled pleasantly like him. The young man knew the other two didn’t trust him, but they had no choice but to believe what he had told them about why Haytham would be on his way to Lee, for now there was no other starting point for their search for the Grand Master, so they came along.  
However, they found Lee’s residence empty, and there was also no sign of Haytham’s motorcycle nearby. After a moment of hesitation, they decided to head to Abstergo’s, in case either one of them was there, or someone knew where they might be.  
Connor had never entered the large corporate building in downtown Boston; which was an impressive architectural avantgarde building with lots of concrete and glass. The entrance hall was huge and even at this hour well-staffed. The young Assassin, who was used to their spacy yet rather comfortable Bureau, felt lost upon entering; trying to imagine Haytham running this place, giving orders and being his arrogant self while behaving like the king of the castle.  
“Mr. Cormac, Sir? Mr. –“  
Flinching at the voice, Connor averted his gaze from looking around the room to stare at the girl sitting at the reception. “ _You!_ ”, he breathed out in surprise; recognizing that one suspicious nurse from the hospital in the blonde girl at the front desk, even though she was wearing some inconspicuous ladies' suit.  
Turning toward Connor with raised brows, the others looked at him questioningly.  
“You!”, he repeated, stepping closer and leaning over the table with narrowed eyes. “Where is he? What have you done?”  
Looking from Connor to the other two Templars and back again, the girl seemed confused; her red lips forming that surprised little O again. “Who are you?”, she asked eventually. "What are you talking about?"  
“Don’t pretend you don’t know me! You tried to kill him! Who do you work for? Charles Lee? I swear, if anything happened –“  
Placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder, the scarred Templar leaned in and said, “A word please?”  
Barely being able to contain his anger, the young Assassin followed the Templar to a corner where the receptionist couldn’t overhear their talk, while the other Templar entered the building and vanished.  
“What are you trying to do here?”  
“She was there! She was at the hospital; dressed like a nurse. I was… I just got some coffee, and when I came back, she was there, trying to give Haytham some kind of injection. She tried to kill him. She must be working for Lee!”  
Glancing over at the girl, the Templar sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I can’t trust you, Assassin. If what you are saying is the truth, we will find out soon enough, and I shall act upon it. But I can’t let you assault a member of our order in front of my eyes when I can’t be sure you are not lying to make us turn onto each other. I hear what you are saying, alright? If you are right, there will be consequences. But not now. If Master Kenway or Master Lee are here, we will ask them. I tend to believe you about Lee, because…”  
In that very moment, the other Templar reappeared and slightly shook his head; they weren’t here.  
Leading Connor to the entrance, the two Templars wished the receptionist a good night, apologized for their companion's behavior, and stepped into the rain again. The young Assassin looked back inside; anger boiling up in him when he saw the young woman, who had tried to kill his father, get away, even if it was just for now. He could see her pick up the phone, and it took all his self-restraint not to walk back inside and squeeze the truth out of her.  
“What now?”, the younger Templar asked, and the scarred one turned up his collar and looked musingly at the dark clouds.  
“I was assigned to a mission with Lee a month ago.”, he said, and faced Connor with a scrutinizing look. “There were a few things that had me… wondering about his intentions. I saw contracts that weren’t officially signed by our respective departments, and yet seemed to be part of our cause. I took a peek at them in secret. I've been misled once already; I won't be fooled again. Also; we’re both up for the position of the Grand Master once Haytham… retires, so I… get what advantage I can get. I thought the information could be useful, and now I believe they are. Let’s hope they are. The contracts were about two large warehouses." He sighed heavily and handed the other Templar his car keys. "I suggest we split up.”

The scarred Templar had taken a company car, while Connor and the other man had gotten back into the car with which they had come to Abstergo’s in the first place; heading toward one of the warehouses, while the older Templar would check out the other. They had exchanged numbers in case they found anything, but the batteries of Connor's phone were almost dead after he hadn't charged them in two days. Nervously looking outside into the rain and watching the first light of day make its way through the dark clouds, Connor fiddled with the safety belt and wondered why Haytham had left in the first place. It seemed unlikely that someone had forced him to leave since none of the three men in the house had heard any suspicious sound, and an intruder would have had to pass all three of them and force Haytham to leave with him while Connor slept next to them. Even if he hadn't the lightest sleep, he was pretty sure that would have woken him up. Probably, as Connor guessed, Haytham had wanted to resolve this whole mess on his own, just as he had said; but it seemed so incredibly foolish to go after someone who might want him dead in that state; his neck not healed up at all. Still, the young Assassin couldn't figure out why one of their Order might want his father dead; Haytham had been a good Grand Master, that much even Connor had known even before he had met him. The Assassins hated him, and that was reason enough to believe that he was doing a good job in his Order.  
He hoped whatever might have happened that Haytham was alright; hopefully having Lee in his hands and already begging for mercy. Certainly, that was a situation Connor would like to join in. With a shudder he remembered that moment two days ago, in which Lee had talked about him and Haytham; claiming the Grand Master had told him all about their encounters. The hatred he felt for that man was nothing like anything he had ever known, but he was determined to use that to his advantage.  
“How far is it?”, he asked, trying to make out the street in the constant pour of rain.  
“We’re almost –“  
The crash was deafening.  
At a moment’s notice, the world seemed to explode; but Connor only vaguely felt the impact; merely hearing the noises of breaking glass and bending metal; seeing strangely distorted colors while he seemed to have no connection to his body at all.  
_This is what it feels like to die_ , he thought with a weird clarity as he lost every feeling of time and physicality.  
A moment later; which had felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes again. Blood poured from his mouth due to a split lip, and he only barely saw what was going on. He felt dizzy, and his vision was blurry as he tried to understand what had happened.  
After the deafening noises, it was insanely quiet now, and there was only the soft sound of rain, the monotonous squeaking of the windshield wipers and some distant hissing sound, like steam escaping the damaged car.  
Suddenly the passenger's door was violently opened, which seemed an almost impossible task thanks to the deformation of the whole vehicle. Only now Connor tried to turned his head to look at the Templar next to him. The young Assassin wasn’t sure whether or not the other was still alive, but it didn’t look good for him. He could see the front of the truck that had run into them, and had hit them on the driver’s side.  
The men, who had ripped the passenger's door open, now cut his safety belt and pulled him from the car while he was barely conscious. His chest and head hurt, but Connor vaguely thought about the safety belt probably saving his life. Trying to struggle against their grip, he looked back at the crushed car as they dragged him away; easily containing him in this confused, helpless state. Rain soaked his newly stained shirt, and he coughed; feeling so dizzy that he knew he would pass out soon.  
The last thing he consciously noticed was one of the men turning back to cut the young Templar's throat.

***

  
The evening before Connor would talk to Charles Lee had started out slightly disappointing because Haytham was unusually late.  
Connor knew that his father had an important meeting at Abstergo’s that day, but still, the Templar had promised to come by around six; and even when it was half past seven, there had neither been a call nor had the Grand Master showed up. Usually, Haytham was quite punctual, and the young Assassin was annoyed. He had hurried home after his weekly training unit at the Assassin Bureau, and had looked forward to shower with his father before cooking dinner and eventually retreating to bed, wherever that would lead.  
In the end, he had showered alone, and just when he was done, the doorbell rang. Putting on a bathrobe, Connor slowly made his way to the door and opened it.  
Haytham was wearing an elegant three piece suit, which accentuated just the right areas, and the young man hoped his interest didn’t show all too much when he greedily took in the sight, because he had decided to be mad at his father for being this late without a word of notice.  
He wasn’t too aware of how he himself looked in the bathrobe, which revealed here and there his damp skin that glistened with water; tiny drops trailing over his chest and dripping down from his hair.  
“You are late, father. It’s already past eight.”, he said sulkily when he stepped aside to let the Grand Master in. Haytham smiled, not taking his eyes off his son as he entered the small apartment.  
“I was busy.”, he simply remarked with a musing little smirk, and Connor was pouting because the Templar didn’t even care to apologize.  
“I thought we could shower together. But I already did that now.”, the young man mumbled, watching his father taking off his jacket. “I’m gonna go and get dressed; you can start preparing dinner. I bought some eggplants, I know you like them. I just hope it won't get too late now.”  
With that, he headed toward the kitchen and retrieved the eggplants from the fridge and put them on the counter; placing a few things, which his father would need to prepare dinner, next to them. Haytham was a good cook, and Connor still vaguely wondered why that had surprised him so much.  
However, before the young Assassin could get to his bedroom to dress, his father pressed against him from behind; pushing him slightly forward against the counter. The older man wrapped his arms around him from behind and greedily nipped at the soft skin of Connor’s neck.  
“We haven’t seen each other for two days.”, the Grand Master breathed out, and the young man shuddered; trying to slip from his father’s grip but failing to do so.  
“Usually”, Haytham continued, “you are all too eager to… indulge in some rather pleasant activities when we haven’t seen each other for a while. And now I don’t even get a kiss?”  
“ _Usually_ you’re punctual. I was waiting for you, you know. You said six!”  
“I see…”, Haytham hummed darkly yet almost amused; quite obviously not all too impressed by Connor’s pouting. “One could come to the conclusion... that you already had some fun without me then?”  
“You were late.”, the young man replied weakly, still squirming a bit in the other's embrace even though he didn't really try to escape. Playfully biting down onto the Assassin’s neck, the Grand Master slipped one hand below the bathrobe from behind and let his fingers trail over Connor’s thigh slowly. Shuddering under the touch, zje young Assassin sighed and closed his eyes; actually hoping his father would make it up to him; hoping the evening would turn out nice after all.  
“Did you think about me when you fucked yourself?” Haytham’s voice sounded hoarse, and Connor liked the deep sound of it; spreading his legs just slightly so his father could continue his trail up.  
Nudging the other’s entrance with his fingers, the Grand Master’s other hand slipped beneath the bathrobe, too, and started to caress the young man’s damp skin on his stomach and chest, intentionally not wandering down further.  
“So?”  
“N-no.”, Connor lied, bowing his head and trying to keep his breath normal when Haytham didn’t stop teasing him.  
“No? Are you quite certain about that?” The young man could almost hear the smirk in his father’s voice, and when the Templar pushed two fingers at once into him, he couldn’t suppress a needy moan escaping his lips.  
"Ah, you really are already soft and wet down here…” Moving his fingers knowingly; twisting them and thrusting them into the young man’s body; Haytham eventually reached down with his other hand and ran his fingers over Connor’s erection musingly.  
“What did you think about, then?”  
Leaning against the counter and panting heavily, the young Assassin moaned shamelessly as his father added a third finger and slid them into him gently.  
“M-Maybe…”, Connor huffed shakily. “Maybe it was you…”  
“ _Maybe_ I can refresh your memory. Come, now, tell me all about it…” Pulling his fingers from the boy, Haytham turned him around and sank to his knees; opening up the bathrobe properly and running his fingers with just the right pressure over Connor’s cock before his mouth joined them.  
Giving soft sounds at the attentions, Connor leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked down onto his father; loving how this elegantly clad gentleman kneeled in front of him to suck his cock.  
“I…”, he started, curling a hand into his father’s greying hair and trying not to push into him as the Grand Master wrapped his lips around his son’s cock. “I imagined you tying me up…” Moaning his pleasure, he had difficulties to proceed; his mind being blank and simply overwhelmed by his father’s talented tongue rolling against the tip of his cock and pressing it to the slit in a way that might just drive him insane. “You blindfolding me…”, he added with a shudder, and eventually whispered, “D-doing with me just as you p-pleased.”  
Raising his brows as he looked up at the young man, Haytham locked eyes with him and smirked as good as possible while slowly bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks as he took in the other’s cock. Shuddering, Connor let out a needy moan, not thinking about getting dressed anytime soon.  
When Haytham pulled away, the young man growled displeased; feeling so very close to the edge; cursing how his father always managed to tease him so very mercilessly.  
“How very kinky… how _naughty._ Well; shall we…?” Getting to his feet again, Haytham wiped his flushed lips and looked at Connor, whose bathrobe now hung loosely around his shoulders and attractively framed his naked, damp body.  
Groaning, Connor looked at the eggplants and guessed their dinner would have to wait; if they would get to it this evening at all.  
“Good thing I have bought a blindfold, don’t you think?”, Haytham remarked lowly as he led Connor to the bedroom, and the young man nodded vaguely; thinking about all those things in his nightstand drawer that his father had bought for them.  
Letting himself fall onto the bed, he looked at the Templar and bit his lips at the sight; the other’s erection was almost obscenely visible in his thin, black pants, and Connor simply loved to see the Grand Master aroused like this. He had never cared all that much for sex up until those past months, and suddenly it had become one of his favorite activities to indulge in whenever he was with Haytham, because their intimacy made him feel so good; safe and loved.  
“Tie me up, then, father.”, he said slowly, raising his arms above his head as he stretched out on the mattress and spread his legs slightly. Not hesitating for one second, Haytham grabbed the cuffs that were dangling, as always, from the bedpost, and confined his son’s wrists to the bed. Connor was still wearing the bathrobe, but it didn’t matter since his body was revealed quite enough.  
When Haytham retrieved the black blindfold from the drawer, Connor hesitated for a moment; a vague, panicky feeling spreading in his guts as he thought about neither being able to properly move nor see; being almost completely at his father’s mercy. At the same time, this thought intoxicated him; but still, Haytham seemed to notice his hesitation and leaned over Connor with his mild, distant smile on his flushed lips. “We don’t have to…”  
“It’s alright.”, Connor interrupted him hastily and took a deep, shaky breath. “I want it. I trust you.”, he added huskily, and it almost seemed as if the expression in Haytham’s eyes softened before he slowly pulled the blindfold over his son's eyes.  
“I know you do.”, the Templar said quietly, placing a brief kiss onto Connor’s lips and continuing a trail of kisses and gentle bites down; nibbling at the young man’s collar bone and chest; slowly moving over his damp, exposed body, and leaving reddish marks all over the bronze skin. By now, Connor was panting again; giving soft sounds of pleasure and hoping Haytham would grant him release soon; would take him properly. It was still a bit frightening not being able to see anything, but it also meant that he was concentrating more intensely on every sound, every touch and every attention he received. His body heaved under the other’s knowing stimulations, and when the Grand Master eventually pulled away and doubtlessly got rid of at least a few paieces of his own clothing, Connor shuddered in anticipation and need; listening to his father undoing his belt and unzipping his pants; to him opening the drawer and producing everything they needed to push things further.  
His body jerked when the bed dipped again, and he could feel Haytham leaning over him; his hands wandering over his son’s body and gripping tightly onto his hips when he pressed against him; his cock slowly sinking into him as he placed Connor’s legs against his shoulders and slid into him completely with one swift movement.  
Giving one wanton sound of pleasure, the young man pressed his head back into the pillows and muttered pitiful pleas for his father to take him already; to push him over the edge, and fuck him hard and good; yes; to take good care of him.  
He could hear a short, breathless laugh, and could imagine Haytham’s smug expression all too well; but it only added to his want; the other’s delightful dominance only spurring his arousal. He could feel how his ass was pressed against Haytham's crotch tightly; how the Templar pressed against him and had pushed into him as far as possible. His father's hands wandered over his exposed body affectionately; giving his balls a gentle squeeze before wandering further; running over the young man's cock and flicking his thumb over the tip that was already wet with precome.  
“I’m always taking good care of you; especially if you beg like this.”, the Grand Master breathed out mockingly as he started to move against his son; pushing deep inside of him with every thrust, and trying to get the angle just right to let the body beneath him jolt with pleasure, while one hand still enveloped the young Assassin's cock.  
Connor’s toes curled at the feeling of having the other’s cock fill him out so pleasantly; of having Haytham so perfectly close and in charge; displaying his dominating manner so very well.  
Wiping saliva from the Assassin’s flushed lips, the Templar bent down to kiss his son; pressing their bodies against each other and not stilling his movements. Connor responded to the kiss greedily; only breaking it to take a breath and let out soft sounds of pleasure whenever Haytham moved just the right way.  
“I trust you, father.”, he repeated as he clenched up tight around his father’s cock and came hard. “I trust you.”  
It wasn’t what he wanted to say.  
“I love you, father. I love you.”, it echoed in his mind, but he knew it hadn’t passed his lips.

***

  
Distant voices reached Connor when he slowly surfaced from his unconsciousness; they sounded distorted and vague, and it took a long while until he could understand what they were saying.  
“If you had just _agreed_ on our terms, it would have been easier for all of us. Look at this mess. I’m not happy about it either, believe me. It will be some effort to bribe the cops and let it appear as if the Assassins attacked you while you were in the car with some other Templar, and your own son abducted and killed you out of jealousy or whatever. At least he made _that_ easier to believe since he actually tried to do it.”  
“Leave him out of this. This is about me as far as I’m aware of your idiotic plans regarding the Order. I do not wish for him being dragged into this; he has no part in your schemes.”  
The words seemed to come from far away, and Connor felt too dizzy to open his eyes; just trying to concentrate on his father’s voice. Was this still part of a dream?  
“He got into this himself.”, the other voice answered mildly; and Connor vaguely wondered where he had heard it before. Slowly, he could feel his aching body again, and the uncomfortable position he was lying in; his hands tied in front of his chest and the floor hard beneath him.  
“Fa-“, he started, but only a spate of blood poured over his lips as he opened them. Coughing and retching, the young man opened his eyes wide. “Father”, it came like a whisper over his wet lips. He could see Haytham, even though everything still seemed blurry and only slowly came into focus. The Templar had his back turned toward Connor, as if shielding him with his body. Now that he got aware of the other waking up, he turned around; kneeling down next to his son and wiping blood from his lips. Connor could see that he had been in a fight; bruises and a split lip being clear evidence of it; and the bandage on his neck was gone, so one could see the nasty stitching, which, however, still seemed intact, much to the young man's relief.  
“Wha-?”  
Hushing for him to be quiet, Haytham shook his head and ran his hand soothingly through Connor’s hair before he struggled to his feet again and looked back at the people he had been talking with when Connor had woken up. The Assassin tried to look around his father to see the other men, but all he could make out was the large room of a warehouse in which they were situated; guards at each door and no windows. It smelled like gasoline, and it made Connor feel even more nauseous than he already did. Trying to ignore the pulsating pain in his whole body, he attempted to sit up; eventually managing to while guessing he had at least one broken rip.  
“Let him go. He has nothing to do with this. He’s no danger to your operations. He's a small fish, of no importance really.”  
“We both know that’s not quite true. He followed you here; he’ll follow you everywhere like an obedient lap dog that knows how to bite.”  
Shaking his head, Haytham glanced back at Connor; his expression illegible. “He’ll stop when I’m dead.”  
The snickering laugh that followed was all too familiar to Connor, but Charles Lee hadn’t been the one to talk to Haytham until now. Connor shifted to see the two men sitting in front of Haytham; their legs crossed while they leaned back relaxed as if this was a casual company meeting. He knew them both; and when his eyes met Lee’s, he clenched his jaw.  
“You tell me he won’t try to take revenge? Won’t go after those who killed his Daddy dearest? His lover?” This time it was Lee who talked, and Connor feverishly wished that this disgusting man didn’t know anything about their intimate relationship.  
“He won’t.”, Haytham said, and his voice sounded somewhat strained.  
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. I’m not taking risks.”, the first man said impatiently and got up. Connor had seen his face countless times on posters plastered all over the city – _Boston needs Washington_. _Washington – a name with history_. _Washington is in Boston_. And so on.  
His mayoral campaign was running for several months now, and the actual election would be in less than two months.  
Snarling at the politician when he stepped towards them, Haytham readied himself for a fight, even though he had no weapons as far as Connor could tell.  
Clicking his tongue in discontent, Washington shook his head and gestured for Lee to resolve this, which he did; pulling out a gun and pointing it at Connor, who had shifted from his father’s shielding body to be able to see the men who held them captive.  
With a feral look in his eyes, the young Assassin tried to struggle to his feet, but failed to do so with bound hands and his body still aching from the accident.  
“Why would I be intimidated by you pointing a gun at my son when you’re going to kill us anyways?”, Haytham growled, his fists clenched and his posture still alert.  
“Because you don’t want him to spend the time until then in excruciating pain, do you?”  
His shoulders slumped, and the Grand Master looked briefly back at Connor, as if to apologize for not fighting when this was the risk he would have to take.  
The young Assassin had never seen his father like this; even when he had been lying in an alley with life pulsing out of him in streams of red, he had been strong in a way; had been fighting. Now, he seemed tired; not knowing what to do.  
“Come here, Haytham. Sit down.” Washington patted the cheap plastic chair, on which he had been sitting a moment ago, and gestured for Lee to get over to Connor, who was still kneeling on the hard concrete floor and tried to keep an eye on both Washington, who now was tying Haytham fast to the chair; and Lee, who came closer; simply waiting for an opportunity to attack either one of them. Even if the guards at the door killed them, it would be worth it as long as he could take one of them down with him.  
Charles fetched a small rope on his way to the young Assassin; however, he did not put the gun down for one second, always keeping it aimed at Connor. Then he stood before the young man and lowered the gun to reach up and wind one end of the rope around a hook hanging above Connor, which the Assassin hadn’t noticed yet; and which didn’t promise anything good.  
“Lift your arms.”, Lee ordered with a teeth-baring grin. “I think you’ll like this. At least judging from the face you were making with cuffs on your wrists - and you Daddy’s dick shoved up your ass. Today minus the latter, though.” His snickering laugh was just adding enough hatred to Connor’s churning insides to push him into action; moving forward and tackling Lee down before he could even get his gun pointed back at Connor. With his hands tied in front of his chest, Connor couldn’t reach for it right away, so he concentrated on doing as much damage to Lee as he could manage; lifting his bound hands just to let them come down forcefully right into the other’s face, who was lying dizzied beneath him.  
Only a low, strangled sound let him stop, and when he looked up, he immediately backed away.  
Washington had pulled out a knife and had cut open the first part of the stitching on Haytham's neck. The Grand Master looked pale and in pain; however, Connor was sure he had tried to bite back that faint sound in order not to disrupt what his son was attempting to do. Still, the blood now running from the wound was enough to convince Connor to stop. There had to be a way, the Assassin thought feverishly; trying desperately to come up with a solution; a plan to escape, in which Washington didn't cut his father's throat in front of his eyes.  
“Glad we have this cleared up.”, Washington said calmly, a hand resting on Haytham’s shoulder, while the other still held the knife. “I didn’t anticipate this mess, and I do apologize in all earnest. I would certainly make it easier for you if I could; but it doesn’t quite add up if I just shoot you in the head and claim that this is supposed to be a crime of passion. It has to be ugly.”  
Lee had gotten to his feet again, and Connor could see the angry gleam in his eyes when he readjusted the rope and picked up the gun again. “Hands above your head.”, he growled again, and this time Connor complied; biting back sounds of pain when his broken rip was moved in the process of raising his arms over his head. Tying Connor’s hands to the hook with the rough rope, Lee made sure to tighten it as much as possible; not giving the young Assassin another shot at him.  
Nodding when he was done, he was grinning again and winked at Connor, who only barely defied the urge to spit into his face.  
“Sorry, Haytham.”, Lee said when he tucked away the gun and it almost sounded honest. “I have always looked up to you, but on this I cannot stay by your side.”  
With that, he nodded at Washington and left the warehouse with some guards following him out.  
For a moment there was silence, and Connor only heard the faint howling of the wind and his blood rushing in his ears.  
“Now, again, I did not mean for it to end like this. I had hoped we could simply eliminate the Grand Master while the Templars and Assassins are at war; no big deal, no suspicion, and you would be busy fighting each other, not minding my businesses.”  
Washington shrugged, and looked at the knife.  
“This way, Connor here”, he pointed the knife at the young Assassin, “will have killed his father out of incestuous love; feeling so very jealous and betrayed. His body will be found still clutching the knife with which he has stabbed his father…”  
“No!”, Connor ripped at the restraints, but Lee had made sure they didn’t move one bit.  
Haytham only gave a strangled sound when Washington slid the knife cruelly slow into him; blood immediately painting the front of his shirt in the same bright red with which his collar was already stained.  
“…over…” Washington’s voice was still calm when he pulled it out, and pushed the knife into Haytham’s body again; still calm when he repeated it all over again.  
“…and over again. This is how a true _crime of passion_ looks like.”  
“No… no…” Connor’s body went limp when he realized that it was too late; that he couldn’t do anything, and couldn’t save his father as he had sworn to do. His voice was just a whisper when he bit back the tears, and only a soft, strangled whimper left his lips.  
Flinching away when Washington came closer, Connor tried to look into his eyes; his expression fiery when he said, “I’m going to come after you. I am going to kill you.”  
He felt how tears escaped his eyes and ran over his cheeks; helplessness and hate clouding his mind when Washington forced the knife into the young Assassin's hands and wound a small string around it so Connor couldn’t drop it.  
“I doubt it.”, the politician said mildly, stepping away and musingly studying the scenario he had created, before leaving them with the last guards following him.  
“Father!”  
Connor squirmed, not wanting to believe he had no chance to free himself.  
Haytham seemed unconscious, if not worse, and with dizzying worry Connor looked at the blood from the multiple stab wounds dripping onto the floor and creating a large puddle at the Grand Master’s feet.  
“Listen to me, old man, don’t you…” His voice left him, and he cleared his throat and blinked away the tears before he could speak any further. “Don’t you dare leaving me now, Haytham. You said we’d go to Europe. You… you owe me the privilege of… you know, we never did it the way I wished for that first night. I still… you still owe me that. I certainly earn it if I get us out of here, right? Just don’t… I’ll… You are not allowed to die. Fuck, it was so stupid of you to just go to them and not take me with you. Didn’t I say I’d protect you; I’d abate my guilt? How the fuck am I supposed to do that now?”  
Swallowing heavily, Connor didn’t know what else to say, but when Haytham moved, his body almost jumped with surprise. However, when Haytham lifted his head and grinned a bloody grin at him, he knew it was bad. The Templar was as pale as a sheet, and his face distorted with anguish; blood running from his lips and his eyes dark with pain.  
“I’m gonna get us out of here; do you hear me?”  
Haytham’s head slumped down again, and with a gargling sound a gush of blood poured from his lips. Then there was silence; until Connor could hear distant, crackling sounds, which he wasn’t able to identify until he smelled the fire.  
Now Washington’s words seemed to make more sense; as did the smell of gasoline; the police would find their burned bodies and the rope would only leave small traces, which some bribery could probably make go away. A true crime of passion.  
Connor hated fire ever since he had failed to rescue his mother from it; and his whole body shivered in panic when he could see the first flames reaching the large room in which they were situated; licking greedily at the paper boxes which were stacked up here and there; following trails of gasoline quickly and painting horrid shadows onto the walls.  
Those next minutes were ripped directly from one of Connor’s worst nightmares.  
He had actually managed to escape from his restraints by breaking his right thumb twice, which then enabled him to let the knife clatter to the floor and slip from the tight rope, even though it still took him long minutes until it worked out.  
He picked up the knife and cut Haytham loose; however, Connor wasn’t sure if he was still breathing. By now, he was coughing violently because of the thick smoke, and the incredible heat seemed to sear his skin with every move. Placing his father’s lifeless arms over his shoulders, he tried to lift him onto his back and staggered into the direction of one of the doors which wasn't blocked by the fire; ignoring the wet, sticky warmth of the Grand Master’s blood soaking the back of his shirt and running down his back.  
With his sight blurred by tears, and his body weak from pain and exhaustion, it seemed to take forever until he got to the door, only to find it locked. Haytham was heavy on his back, and for a moment Connor thought he’d just pass out and die right there, only inches from the outside. Banging against the door as good as possible with his last bit of energy, the young Assassin let out a low howl, not willing to give up; not willing to accept his and his father’s death.  
Just when he was about to sink to his knees under the other’s weight, the door opened.  
For a moment Connor thought Washington’s men had come back to make sure they burned up for good, then he recognized the scarred Templar, who looked at them in horror.  
Connor almost sank into his arms, hoping it wasn’t too late.  
“Haytham…”

***

 **Epilogue**  
_\- a few months later -_

“…that’s that, I guess.”  
Connor sighed, plucking out a few blades of grass and twirling them in his fingers before letting them fall to the ground. He looked up at his mother’s grave and tried to smile.  
“I hope you understand now why I haven’t shown up here for a while. Even with the funeral…” He vaguely looked uphill and felt how his smile faded. “…I didn’t feel like coming by and telling you everything that has happened. I was just too busy dealing with everything, and I wasn’t quite healed up. Came straight here from the hospital that day. But-“ He paused for a moment and watched a few clouds float through the blue sky. “-I found Charles Lee. After all of that I... needed my revenge. When they hadn’t found my body, they knew I wasn’t dead. But Achilles and the others made sure I wasn’t in hospital under my real name, so I guess that’s why Washington and his men didn’t show up to kill me right away. They probably knew I’d come after them, though. Washington has won the election. That bastard. He shouldn't crow too soon. Well; I guess Lee thought he’d be safe with that strong ally; being Grand Master and all. But I got to him, thanks to Shay, even though no one must know his involvement into all of this. I suppose you don’t want to hear all the details, but I did kill him, and I have to admit…”  
Taking a deep breath and stretching his back, Connor hesitated but eventually continued to talk. “I enjoyed killing him. I’ve never… found it particularly fun to kill people; believe me, I only did it because it sometimes was necessary to protect the ones I cared for, or protect the Assassins. This time, however, I… I wished I could kill him over and over again. He suffered. That’s all you need to know, I guess. I squeezed some information from him; but it wasn’t too much new amongst the useless gibberish he uttered to save his skin. Washington was funding his mayoral campaign on drug money, prostitution and such things; increasing his illegal activities heavily in those last months of the election, and he didn’t want the Assassins or Templars to intervene. With the latter he was interested in forming some kind of alliance; guessing they’d rather pursue the same goals as he does. However, Haytham refused his offer. Several times. One of these times, Washington met with Lee, who was more than interested in some kind of deal; help Washington in his election, and get something back when he’s mayor. The Templars always have some political interest as well, but Haytham didn’t trust Washington enough; didn’t think he was really capable enough to be a reliable partner. They followed Haytham; surveiled him to make sure they always knew where he was and what he was doing; hence they knew about...”  
Running a hand over his face, Connor swallowed. “You know, when I told Achilles that he's dead, he seemed somewhat pleased. I always suspected Haytham might be the cause of his limp, but I shall ask him some other time. Well… now that Lee’s dead, I shall go after Washington. It’s gonna be hard. He’s the mayor. But I won’t be alone, so don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be fine.”  
Getting up and brushing grass from his jeans, the young man looked uphill to a distant shadow standing among the graves.  
“I’m gonna go see Father; tell him the news. I’m not gonna be here for a while; my trip to Europe starts today. I just wish I wouldn’t fly alone…” Connor smiled weakly and reached out to run his fingers over the withered stone of Ziio’s grave as a small goodbye.  
When he slowly made his way uphill, he could see the Grand Master of the Templars stand in the pleasant shadow of a large oak; looking down onto a fresh grave with a clouded expression.  
Nodding as a greeting, Connor stopped next to him; his hands buried in his pockets as he followed the other’s gaze to the grave in front of them.  
“It’s better this way.”, the Templar said as if to convince himself of his own words, and Connor shrugged without looking up at him.  
“Maybe. It’s hard anyways.”  
They remained silent for a moment; undoubtedly both thinking about that day George Washington had tried to kill them.  
“I have gotten to Charles Lee.”  
“So I’ve heard.”  
“I killed him.”  
“I’ve heard about that, too. And I’m glad you did.”  
“I’m sorry I didn’t call; I… I thought it would be better if we remained in some distance; not have any more traces connecting us.”  
The Templar nodded absent-mindedly, and Connor continued, “I mean, for the time being we’ve the same goal; but still… an Assassin and the Grand Master of the Templars working together should only be revealed to selected people. Washington mustn’t know about our truce.”  
The Templar let out a short laugh. “Grand Master…”, he repeated. “I’m still not used to that title.” Running a hand over his scarred face, he looked down onto the simple gravestone; shaking his head slightly but not adding another word.  
“My mother’s grave is down there.”, Connor said after a while, vaguely pointing into a direction downhill.  
“Why didn’t you...” The Grand Master nodded toward the grave in front of them. “Why not next to her? Is it because…?”  
“It would’ve felt wrong. You know, with him being…” Shrugging again, Connor closed his eyes for a moment. With him being with me.  
The Templar nodded. “Well”, he said, “I’ll head back to Abstergo’s and await orders. Take care, Connor. Let me know when there are any news. And say hello for me to your… boyfriend.”  
“Will do.”, Connor replied, looking after Grand Master Cormac before he sat down in front of the grave just as he had sat down with Ziio.  
_Haytham Edward Kenway_ , he read; reaching out to let his fingers run over the stone that felt so much smoother than his mother’s gravestone; still being so new and not damaged by the weather and not claimed by the moss just yet.  
For a moment he closed his eyes; feeling a warm breeze gently running through his hair, and rays of sunlight dancing like careful fingers over his skin. The tree above him whispered low praise, and in the distance he could hear the streets and the city life of Boston. He sighed. Maybe it was time to leave ‘Grand Master Kenway’ behind, even though it seemed impossible not to whisper it into his lover’s ear anymore. Maybe it was time to leave Boston behind.  
Opening his eyes again, Connor let out a sigh, guessing he would be picked up soon.  
Indeed; he could hear the taxi before he saw it; and a soft smile spread on his lips as he could see the vehicle slowly making its way uphill. Getting up, walking towards the graveyard street and waiting for the car to come to a halt next to him, he gave the driver his home address, where he picked up his packed bags and headed towards the airport. He got to the check in way too early, but he didn't want to miss his night flight to Amsterdam by any chance. From there he would take another plane to Edinburgh in the morning.  
  
Edinburgh seemed small when Connor watched the historic buildings pass by on his way to a hotel near the Grassmarket; having hailed a taxi and taking in the sight with big eyes. Planned were three days in Edinburgh, then a trip down to London; but there was still room for a change of plans, in case there was anything interesting on the way. So far, Connor liked the historic city landscape, and he was looking forward to exploring the town during those three days, even though he had no intentions to leave the hotel room that very day.  
The Inn, which awaited him at the address he had given the taxi driver, looked expensive, and the young man tried not to make a face when he thought about the money that had already been spent on the flight; and now this.  
“Mr. Scott?”  
It took a second until he realized the receptionist meant him, for he had almost forgotten that he wasn’t travelling under his real name. Putting down his luggage, he turned toward the young man and smiled a tired little smile. “Yeah?”  
“I was advised to give you your room key upon checking in.”  
Handing Connor the key after checking the young man's (fake) ID, the receptionist wished him a good day and seemed almost offended when Connor didn’t want any help with his luggage.  
When he made his way upstairs, his heart was beating so fast that he thought he might get a heart attack; months of only seeing each other on Skype, including weird video calls in which they had eventually come to the conclusion that it was somehow not quite satisfying, and only led to missing the other's presence even more.  
Even though he had a key to the room, Connor carefully knocked just to let the other know he was there; just to give him a heads up and not give him a scare by simply dashing into the room.  
The door opened almost immediately, and there he was.  
“Haytham…”, the young Assassin breathed out, letting the luggage drop to the floor as he flung his arms around his father.  
They stood like that for a moment; just embracing each other tightly and not letting go. Connor buried his face in the crook of the older man's neck and breathed in his pleasant scent that he had missed so much; feeling the other's body close to his' after such a long time.  
Eventually, they broke away and the young man picked up his luggage to follow his father into their room. Trying to ignore how tears were already welling up again, he wiped them away stealthily and looked around the room once the door had closed behind them. The large window let them have a nice view over the city, and the whole furnishing certainly seemed luxurious.  
Haytham wrapped his arms around him once more and Connor pulled him closer; placing a soft kiss onto his lips and being incredibly happy to feel the other deepening it. After months of being separated, it felt weird yet exciting to have the other so close again; and soon their kiss grew rather hungry and rough while their hands roamed over the other's body; mapping out the curves they had once known so well. Haytham had lost weight, but that wasn’t too surprising after his long stay in hospital. Connor didn’t even notice how they had gotten to the large bed, but suddenly he was toppling backwards and landed softly onto the mattress while his father leaned over him and still didn’t break their kiss. Panting slightly, the young man eventually pulled away to be able to properly look at the other; smiling weakly with flushed lips to see his father quite in the flesh again.  
“I’ve missed you so much.”, he muttered, shifting backwards slightly and tugging at his father’s shirt for him to join his son on the bed, which Haytham did. Sitting on top of his son, he smiled mildly down at him and caressed the young man’s blushed cheek. Leaning into the gentle touch, Connor sighed and reached up to slowly unbutton the older man’s white shirt; revealing his scarred chest with the thick pinkish lines running over the pale skin where George Washington had stabbed him. Swallowing heavily, Connor’s eyes flickered up to that one thin line on Haytham’s neck; all too well remembering how he had left his own traces on his father’s body. Hushing him as if he had been about to voice any of these thoughts, the older man leaned down and kissed his son again; a hand slipping beneath Connor’s shirt and trailing over the soft skin of his stomach; drawing lazy lines with his fingertips and only eventually wandering up further.  
Giving a soft sound of pleasure and wellbeing into their kiss, Connor relaxed a bit more; trying to simply enjoy being able to be with his father again. When Haytham broke away, he urged the young man to pull off his shirt, which Connor all too eagerly did; in the process also reaching out to let his father’s shirt slip from his broad shoulders to pool on the floor next to the bed.  
Leaning over the young Assassin, Haytham covered the other’s upper body with soft bites and kisses; trailing over the bronze skin appreciatively and leaving reddish hickeys here and there; apparently pleased to be able to mark the young man like this again. His fingers ran over the bulging front of Connor’s jeans with light pressure; humming low, mocking praise when he found him already so hard. His lips and tongue didn’t leave his son’s body when he undid his own belt and let it clatter carelessly to the floor. Getting up, he reached for lube and a condom, which were already lying on the nightstand as Connor could see now, and the young man gave a soft groan of anticipation.  
“I’ve missed your cock, too.”, he mumbled with a roguish little smile on his lips; but Haytham shook his head slightly when he bent down to open up Connor’s jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear. Breathing out a questioning hum, Connor watched his father unzip his pants and licked his lips at the sight of the naked other climbing on top of him again with the lube and the condom next to them; easily within reach now.  
“ _Well_ ”, Haytham said, squirting some lube in the palm of his hand and warming it up slightly before slicking his fingers. Only now Connor realized it was the first thing his father had said since he had opened the door. “I remember you claiming I still owe you something. I shall keep my promise then, since you certainly earned it by now…”  
The breath caught in Connor’s throat as he realized what Haytham was talking about, and he let out a soft little moan at the mere thought of having his father sink down onto him.  
Smirking at the reaction, Haytham leaned forward over Connor, one hand on the mattress to support his weight, and reaching around himself with the other to prepare himself for his son’s cock. Connor watched his father’s face closely; his own lips parted and breathing out soft sounds of anticipation as he was overwhelmed by the rapt expression on the older man’s face while he fucked himself with his fingers to be able to sink down onto his son.  
“Father…”  
Moaning lowly, Haytham locked eyes with his son as he slid another finger into himself; trying to prepare himself sufficiently. “Go on”, the older man let out breathily, “get ready.” Eagerly complying, Connor reached out to retrieve the condom and the lube; not averting his gaze from his father’s face while he rolled the former on and slicked himself with lazy strokes. He felt incredibly needy at the mere thought of having the opportunity to fuck the other; and it was tough not to just continue touching his aching cock at this exciting prospect; the sight of Haytham leaning over him and fucking himself was certainly arousing enough to let him come.  
Humming pleased, Haytham sat up again and ran his hand over Connor’s cock with a smirk, raising a brow as he looked back at the other’s big, dark eyes.  
“Don’t you dare coming before I’ve actually let you fuck me, boy.”, he said mockingly and Connor bit his lips as Haytham lifted his ass slightly and aligned himself with his son’s cock before slowly pushing down onto him. The young man’s fingers dug harshly into the skin of Haytham’s hips as he let out a shameless, helpless moan and couldn’t help but push up slightly just to feel more of it; the intoxicating heat and tightness around his cock; the way Haytham squeezed him so pleasantly.  
“Ah, heavens…”, the older man moaned out; his eyes fluttering shut as he had sunken down completely; obviously trying to adjust to the intrusion before he slowly started to move. The sight of him was marvelous, and Connor panted heavily; desperately trying not to be pushed over the edge already; wanting this to never end. Losing control over the loudness of his moans, he vaguely hoped no one would walk past their door and hear them; but somehow it didn’t matter right now; all that mattered was this; was them being together again.  
He looked up at his father in entrancement; pushing up his hips in unison with Haytham’s movements, and he was both cursing, and praising this at the same time, not even thinking about whether or not he was talking Mohawk.  
When the older man had readjusted the angle with which he pushed down, Haytham's body jerked with sudden pleasure upon having Connor slide into him completely again, and after a few thrusts, he came; biting down hard on his lower lip and squeezing Connor tight as his body cramped.  
Letting out a whorish sound, the young Assassin pushed up roughly; only barely managing not to come as well. Using Haytham’s dazed and blissful state, he pushed his father off in order to reverse their roles; now leaning over the other and swiftly sliding into him again with his dark eyes closely surveilling Haytham's rapt expression at having his son fuck him like this. The young Assassin watched the other’s body readily accepting his cock again, and enjoyed the sight of his father beneath him; spreading his legs for him and looking up at him with a vague smile on his flushed lips; cum smeared over his stomach and his grey eyes being still clouded from the orgasm.  
Thrusting into him a few more times was enough for Connor to be unable to hold back anymore, and with a feral, low growl he came; his fingers digging harshly into Haytham’s thighs as he moved forward one last time.  
Panting heavily, he collapsed onto his father and remained like this until the pleasure had rushed over him.  
Kissing the top of his son’s head, Haytham gently pushed the young man off of him and removed the condom to get rid of it before joining Connor on the bed again and wrapping his arms around him. Shifting close to his father’s body, the young man sighed happily and muttered vague praise.  
“How was your flight?”, Haytham asked after a moment of silence, and the young man chuckled; actually glad they had resolved the unbearable sexual tension before their talk.  
“Lonely.”, he mumbled, pulling away slightly to be able to look at his father. “But I think I like Edinburgh.”  
Smiling mildly, the older man absent-mindedly caressed Connor’s back; his fingers dancing slowly over the bronze skin and leaving a tingling sensation wherever they went.  
“Oh, and Shay wanted me to say hi in person to you.”  
Giving a soft sound of acknowledgment, Haytham reached up to brush a strand of dark hair from Connor’s face. “I talked to him the other day.”, the older man said. “After he got his new office. Called me for advice, as always.”  
“Even though you’re not Grand Master Kenway anymore, you still run that place.” Connor chuckled again, and rested his head onto Haytham’s shoulder. “It was really weird to stand at your grave, knowing you are here. I mean, I guess it’s for the best if they think you are dead, but…” He sighed. “But still, it kind of hurts, because even though I know you made it, I lived with fearing for your life for so many weeks that it’s like stepping right into one of my nightmares from those days after they had brought you to Europe in that specialty hospital and I waited for a call night and day; just wanting to hear that you had pulled through.”  
Placing soft kisses onto Connor’s face, Haytham eventually raised his son’s face gently to be able to kiss him properly, as if to show him that _this_ was reality, and none of those nightmares had come true.  
“Think about something nice. Washington’s face maybe, when I show up alive and well; stabbing him while stressing the fact that it's a true _crime of passion_.”, Haytham remarked with a raised brow once they broke apart and Connor couldn’t help but smile. “If you want to, we could shower and then head out; get some late lunch. I could show you the city; we could climb Arthur’s seat…”  
“Does this hotel have room service?”  
Making a face, Haytham seemed slightly puzzled. “Of course.”  
“Then I’d rather stay where we are.”, Connor hummed with a lazy smile, leaning in for another kiss and muttering before their lips met, “I think you should really punish me for calling you an old man.”  
Smirking, Haytham returned the kiss greedily and pressed closer to the young man; one hand trailing down the other’s broad frame and squeezing his ass. “Have you ever been spanked?”  
“No, but I think that sounds perfect.”, Connor mumbled. “I suppose you have to pick up your training anyways.”  
“ _Certainly…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thanks for staying with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! As always, I'd be immensely happy about feedback :>


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